North American Dream
by Kavi Leighanna
Summary: A car accident that's more than a car accident. A tour for too long. Loving more than being loved. A wedding that won't be planned. Castle/Beckett, Lanie/Esposito.
1. Chapter 1

_This is fifth in a series. You don't necessarily have to read each of them before you read this, but it may be a help so you know how we got to this point. If you'd rather just read this one and wait to read the rest, PM me and I'll see about catching you up on the relevant points. The series, in order, is listed as part of my profile so you don't have to go hunting through the story list to find them all. _

_There are no show spoilers beyond the cases. Everything in the personal lives of our favourite detectives that we've seen on the show essentially never happened._

* * *

**Around the World Series**

_Part Five_

North American Dream

Chapter 1

. . . . .

For Detective Kate Beckett, normalcy wasn't just a comfort, it was a way of life.

With all of the upheaval she'd had as a teenager, Kate craved normalcy. Comfort, pattern, routine… She lived and breathed it all. She woke up beside her fiancée – God, associating that word with Rick Castle still sent _very_ pleasant shivers down her spine – showered and, if she was lucky and he was awake enough, breakfast was waiting for her. Otherwise, she grabbed a muffin that always seemed to be there and headed out for her shift.

Without him.

That was a routine she was still getting used to. They were training themselves, for all intents and purposes. He was heading out in a month to tour the better part of North America. He'd put his foot down about Europe, a choice that both baffled and irritated her, but it also made her giddy. He wouldn't be more than a couple of hours away by plane. In fact, the way they'd worked the schedule, he would be in the general New York area about half way through and they'd already talked about a weekend or more in some nearby town or city.

Kate knew it was part of his job and she knew she couldn't ask him not to go, but there was still a big part of her that was dreading that much upheaval in their routine. As it stood, she missed him terribly during the day.

But she was Kate Beckett and there was no way, on God's green earth she was going to let that affect her. She would pretend to her dying day that she was okay driving to a scene with Detective Mark Sookhold beside her instead. She was totally comfortable with him seeing the minute she always took before climbing out of the car. She was used to falling into step with Mark rather than Rick, nodding at the officer who held up the tape for her.

Granted, Kate had discovered she and Mark were surprisingly complementary. Where she zeroed in on her best friend and the two bodies immediately, he took a moment to stand and take in the whole scene. Sure, he didn't catch onto her thought processes like Rick and he sure as hell didn't take care of her like Rick always had, but he was an NYPD-trained officer, so he often saw things, thought of things, that Rick didn't, simply out of experience.

Still, when Lanie looked up at her, she let out a heavy sigh.

"Still not used it, huh?" the ME inquired as she jotted something down on her clipboard. She was crouched between two bodies, one male, one female. In front of her, tangled together in twisted masses of silver and red, were two cars.

"No," Kate replied, aware Lanie was referring to Rick's absence. "And he's not even gone yet."

Lanie blew out a breath. "You're going to be a terror when he is, aren't you?"

"I'm not some toddler," Kate replied with a slight smile and a bark of laughter.

Lanie smiled too. Just months ago, her friend had broken, shattered because the one thing Kate thought mattered most had been stripped away from her. The woman Lanie saw now was different. Not entirely – she still pulled too many late nights, still threw herself a little too enthusiastically into the job – but enough that it lightened Lanie's heart. Kate joked more, smiled more, seemed to stop and smell the roses more often and what kind of best friend wouldn't be happy about that?

"What do you have?" Kate asked, nodding to the two bodies and starling Lanie back to the crime scene.

"Two victims," Lanie replied. "Female vic is Sheridan Knockwood from the driver's license in her purse." Lanie held over the plastic evidence bag as Kate donned her latex gloves.

"Rochester address."

Lanie nodded. 'Tourist."

"Or she was visiting family. What else?"

"From the trauma, she died not long after the crash. Minutes, maybe even seconds. The paramedics mentioned they'd pulled her out of the Prius."

Silver, Kate noted. "And?"

"ID says he's Kelvin Reinhart. Queens."

"Two people, very far from home," Kate murmured.

"Lacerations on both of them say they were definitely the victims of the crash. Kelvin was barely alive for the paramedics. Quite obviously, they weren't able to stabilize him before he died," Lanie said. She looked up at the detective. "They could have done it."

"You think they're dirty?"

"Dear God, please no. I've had enough of dirty civil servants for a while now." She twisted Kelvin's arm around. "Track marks," she said pointing out the marks on the inside of his elbow.

"You think he OD'd."

Lanie shrugged. "I'll have to run tox to be sure. But with those marks?" The ME shook her head. "Either that or heatstroke."

The painful cold that had been New York's winter months had given way to a July heat wave that made everyone cranky. "You don't think it was an honest accident."

Lanie shook her head. "It's not like he ran a red. I'm not CSU tech, so I don't know the mechanics, but even I know a collision that looks like that?"

"He would have had to be drivin' right at her."

Both women looked up to see the final two members of their team. Detective Kevin Ryan held his ever present notebook while Detective Javier Esposito manned the walkie-talkie.

Esposito nodded at the crash. "He's lucky he survived at all, even if it was only a few minutes."

"Well," Ryan picked up and Kate watched identical grins sprout on their faces. "I would believe that. Except for one tiny problem."

Kate arched an eyebrow, as did Lanie.

Esposito dangled a small baggie, filled half way with white powder. "Found this in his glove box."

Kate stomach clenched. Her heart leaped. "Get those cars back to the lab. I want no stone unturned."

"You think there's more?" Ryan asked.

Kate exchanged a look with Esposito.

"Back in the day," the Hispanic man began. "Queens had… a bit of a reputation."

Lanie watched him carefully, taking in the set of his eyebrows, the slight frown in his mouth. She knew him, well. And she should after almost a year dating. So she didn't like the stubborn set of his jaw. There was something else. Something personal. And he was like pulling a tooth without Novocain when it came to sharing personal information.

But Kate was nodding, so Lanie kept her mouth shut. Despite the fact that she really, _really_ wanted to know more. She knew he came from Queens, knew he'd grown up there. She knew his parents still lived there. But there was something in his eyes that despite the fact that he loved his parents – and Lanie knew that from the way he'd talked to his mother while he was off – that told her there were parts of that particular borough he found distasteful.

What was almost terrifying was that he'd steadfastly refused to take her to meet his parents, his family. And yet, she'd exposed him to the insanity that was her entire family at their annual barbeque on Memorial Day weekend. She'd been dropping hints left, right and center, but she'd gotten nothing in return. She was trying not to let it bother her, but it was starting to feel like, despite their mutual declarations of love, she was in deeper than he was.

And that was painful.

She shook herself violently. It would do her no good to think of any of that now. They had two dead bodies and a possible drug connection. So she reached out for Kate's arm, and, once she had the detective's attention said, "I'll get these guys back."

"Call me," Kate agreed with a nod.

Lanie smiled, despite the painful nature of her thoughts just moments before. "I always do."

* * *

It was well past three in the morning by the time Kate made it through the front door of the loft. The call for the car accident had come in minutes before she and Mark were off shift and so she'd had to call Rick and let him know she was going to be late. Still, she was only mildly surprised to see a light still glowing in the office. Though _Naked Heat_ was long gone, Rick had been burning the midnight oil a lot recently.

Kate sighed in relief as she kicked off her heels, absently shoving them to the side. Aware that Alexis was home, though likely long asleep, Kate refrained from stripping her sweaty clothes off in the hallway. Instead, she picked at the buttons of her blouse as she headed towards the office and the bedroom beyond.

She got quite a shock when she found Rick with a photo album on his lap and a scotch in his hand. She let go of the blouse and made her way towards him. "Why are you up so late?"

There was a shadow in his face that dissipated when he met her eyes. "Welcome home, Detective."

Her blood sizzled at Rick's low tone as she folded herself onto the couch beside him. "You're not getting out of the question," she told him, even as she leaned in to kiss him. She wasn't surprised when he held her in for a deeper exploration of her mouth. They'd both been getting more and more desperate and clingy the less time they had before he left.

She sighed when he released her. "It's good to be home. Now. Spill."

"Couldn't sleep," he said, putting the album and alcohol aside so he could tug her across his lap.

"Well, that much is obvious," Kate quipped.

Silence reigned for a few moments as he skimmed his hand up her bare arm. "Tell me not to go."

"What?" That had _definitely_ not been what Kate expected.

"On tour," he said, despite the fact that she didn't need the clarification. "Tell me not to go."

Kate pulled back so she could cup his cheek. She searched his eyes and found fear, desperation, worry and longing. She sighed. "I can't do that."

"But you want to."

"There is a part of me that does, yes," she agreed, resting her head back on his shoulder. "But that doesn't matter. You know that this is part of your job. _I_ know that this is part of your job." She sucked in a deep breath. "You're going to have to keep doing this when we're married."

She knew it would brighten him, and she felt his breath catch the way it did every time they talked about the wedding.

They were getting married.

"Speaking of, I was thinking May."

Kate wrapped her arm around Rick's stomach, her legs already across his lap. "I was thinking September."

He looked down at her, caught the glimmer of mischief and growled. "You're just being difficult."

She laughed quietly. "I could do spring."

They'd only talked about the wedding in abstract terms. Colours, flowers, church versus civil… It wasn't about avoiding the planning stages, it was about simply not having the time to sit down and do the research. Especially now that he was going on tour.

He held her closer, brushing his lips against her temple. "Early May."

"It might still be too cold," she pointed out, snuggling in closer. "Who knows."

Rick laughed. The previous May had been one of the warmest on record. "Too much later and it'll be Memorial Day."

Kate considered that for a moment. "I could do Memorial Day. In the Hamptons."

"You don't want a traditional church wedding?" he inquired. He'd figured Kate would go that route, would want to walk down the aisle of a church with her dad to see him there, at the front… It was a beautiful mental picture. But then again, this was his Kate. He had a feeling it was going to be a beautiful picture regardless of the locale.

"Little church weddings always turn into big church weddings, in my experience," she replied.

"Big is out. Got it."

She laughed.

"Tell me about the case?"

"Car accident," she replied. "A druggie, and a woman."

Despite the 'druggie' designation, Rick knew Kate would do everything in her power to find out what happened. He also knew if she was still investigating, long enough to have a three-in-the-morning return time, it wasn't just a run-of-the-mill accident. "Suspicious circumstances?"

"Something like that," she agreed. "We're waiting on tox to confirm."

He sighed, then, with a strength she often forgot he had, managed to get a hand beneath her knees and a hand behind her back. She squealed slightly as he lifted. "Since we're waiting, let's go wait in bed."

"You think you can sleep?" she asked quietly, tucking her forehead into his neck.

"You're here," he said, squeezing her slightly before settling her on her side of the bed. Because it was still stifling, neither of them bothered with pajamas, just stripped down and crawled beneath light-weight blankets. Still, Kate cuddled in because despite the heat, she'd grown to the point where it was difficult to sleep without him. She closed her eyes and pulled him a little closer, thinking of the three months they had coming.

He pulled her closer in response, like usual, aware of her thoughts before she had them. "I'm going to miss you," he whispered.

She sucked in a deep breath then leaned up and kissed him. When the kiss grew deeper, hotter, almost out of control, she entertained the thought of how exhausted she'd be in the morning.

But then again, some things were more important than sleep.

* * *

_Quick note here: I used _Naked Heat_ because _Summer Heat_ was the previous one. So now I get to use the real one. Yay! _

_Oh, and I'd planned to have more than the first chapter written before posting. But then I decided I didn't want to because I truly like hearing about what you guys think is going to happen. So as usual, patience is more than appreciated as I battle my way through this. _

_Review if you are so inclined. Thanks in advance. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Around the World Series**

_Part Five_

North American Dream

Chapter 2

. . . . .

If he hadn't become a cop, he would have been a criminal.

Javier believed that. He'd grown up in an area of Queens where drug running became a job at fourteen. Javier had avoided that, partially by luck, partially by being a little standoffish and choosing his friends carefully. Very carefully. Which meant protecting a lot of himself on a regular basis. It was a part of him that he didn't tell people about and he didn't like people seeing. It had nothing to do with Lanie. It had nothing to do with his family

And yeah, okay, he was being cowardly by avoiding it.

He could vividly remember Memorial Day. Each of Lanie's relatives had told some sort of embarrassing story, some anecdote of Lanie as a child. His childhood was not something he was ready to share with her. The boy he was before he hit the Academy was not something he was ready to share with her. And he knew, when she met them – because despite what she thought, it was 'when' not 'if' – he needed to be ready to let her go.

No one wanted the baggage he carried.

But he knew she was getting irritated and discouraged. He hadn't been feeding her a line when he'd told her he loved her, but he knew Lanie was feeling more than just slighted at the fact that he wouldn't take her to see his parents. She was hurt. He knew she thought he didn't realize it, that he couldn't see how much it was bothering her, but, as he stepped into the morgue and took in the lines around his girl's face, the circles under her eyes, he knew part of that could be attributed to him.

"Morning, Cari."

Lanie sat at her desk, her back to the morgue doors bent over her notes and a file. The two sheet-covered bodies on the table clued him in to what report she was filing and he tried not to sigh. He made his way over ensuring that she heard his steps. When he reached her, he set the coffee down at her right elbow and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

She smiled, just slightly, but enough and tilted her head back so it bumped his stomach. "Morning."

"Tell me you didn't sleep here last night," he said softly, coming around to sit on the left side of her desk.

The way she rubbed her eyes told him everything he needed to know.

"Lain."

She sighed. "It was nothing. Really. I was waiting on tox results so I could give you guys something today and then I started Sheridan Knockwood's autopsy in the meantime… Time just… got away from me."

He wasn't sure he believed it. They had keys to each other's apartments and she knew his was closer. And he'd been there. A niggling part of his brain hoped it wasn't because she was starting to pull away.

She'd been… distant. It was becoming more and more obvious that something was becoming a strain on her. Since New York didn't pay him to be an idiot, he figured it was probably because she was losing sleep over them. And that broke his heart.

"Cari-"

"Tox results!"

Javier sighed, eying Louis Hillenbrande as he bolted across the lab.

"They're real doozies, Doctor Parish."

And he was kissing her ass. It made Javier uncomfortable. From the irritation in her eyes, it was apparent he did the same to Lanie. Still, she managed not to growl as she snatched the folder from his hand. Javier read over her shoulder.

"Jesus," she whispered. Then rubbed her forehead. "Is there anything this guy _wasn't_ on?"

"I need a translator," Javier replied. "This is…"

"Chemistry on crack, if you excuse the expression," Hillenbrande interrupted. "Benzodiazepine, MDMA, alcohol, amphetamines, cocaine, heroin…"

Javier looked to Lanie.

"Benzodiazepine is a family sedatives, most commonly used in drugs like Valium, Ativan and Rohypnol," she translated. "MDMA is ecstasy. Amphetamines is another family of drugs." She shot him a small smile. "I don't think I have to translate cocaine or heroin."

"We knew he was a druggie."

"And it makes sense that he'd overdose at these levels." Lanie studied the read out as Hillenbrande bounced.

"The cocaine killed him," the tech finally blurted.

Lanie raised her head slowly and arched an eyebrow. Javier admired how easy it was for her to come off interested and slightly condescending simultaneously.

"Well, cocaine and the benzodiazepines," Hillenbrande corrected. After a fidgeting pause, he pointed to the cocaine and benzodiazepine levels. "Benzo slows down the fall from the high. When mixed with cocaine – which raises the body temperature and can cause hyperthermia – it's called 'speed balling'. The heart gets mixed messages and if the body temperature is also high, the heart gives out."

"Overdose," Javier murmured.

"Which we already thought caused the crash," Lanie added.

"And the car?"

"CSU's still going over it," Hillenbrande blurted. "They've found cocaine and heroin. Those tests should be in by the end of the day." He looked down at Lanie. "We put a rush on it."

Javier wanted to roll his eyes. Really he did. The poor boy was smitten. Too bad for him, she was taken. And Javier wasn't about to give her up if he had a say.

Lanie nodded. "Thanks Hillenbrande." She waited until he was back out the doors before picking up her coffee. She took a sip and her eyes closed in bliss. "And thank you."

"You're welcome," Javier replied, watching as her competent hands went about organizing. Eventually, she held up the folder.

"All of the findings."

He knew he was being dismissed and felt cheated. Where was the spunky Lanie? "Thanks." He paused, then slid his free hand under her chin and forced her to face him. He searched her gaze before leaning in. "Take a break," he murmured against her mouth. "Have a nap."

"I'll think about it," she answered just before his mouth came down on hers. It was hard and hot but her eyes still seemed too depressed when he backed away. How could he explain it all to her without telling her? How was he going to keep her when he was sure explaining it to her would drive her away?

He sighed. "I'll see you later."

It was the most generic farewell he'd ever spoken to her.

Needless to say, Javier felt like crap as he headed back to the precinct. He was at a loss and an impasse. He didn't feel comfortable taking him to his parents' and she was upset because she thought he wouldn't do it. He _hated_ doing it. But he loved her, damnit. He didn't want to lose her.

"Late night?"

Javier looked up when he stepped off the elevator and sent a glare at his partner. "None of your business," he snapped with enough force to gain Beckett and Sookhold's attention. _Deflect_, his mind yelled. _Deflect and distract_. "Autopsy results."

Beckett was out of her chair snatching the file out of his hand before he could really blink. "That was fast," she said, flipping it open, though her eyes were on his. He caught the awareness on her face and wanted to groan. Of course she would know there was something up with him and Lanie.

"Benzodiazepine?" She shook her head pretending to be confused when Javier knew the particular mixtures were probably already known to her. She'd done her fair share of work for narc and she had a good memory for scientific jargon. She held up a hand when Kevin opened his mouth.

"I want to hear it from someone who won't overcomplicate it. I'm heading to the morgue."

Kevin frowned and blushed. Sookhold went to stand, but Beckett shook him off. He looked confused as she stepped onto the elevator and disappeared.

"I'm missing something," the new detective said.

"Girl talk," Kevin offered. "Lanie is Beckett's best friend?"

"Jesus, does that woman have radar?" Sookhold asked, a little bit awed.

Kevin and Javier exchanged a look, not answering the question. Sometimes they wondered the exact same thing.

* * *

When Kate stepped into the morgue, Lanie was nowhere to be found. But one of the techs vaguely pointed her back out the way she came. As Lanie was territorial about her workspace, and most of the rest of the floor were labs, she figured Lanie could only be in one place. Sure enough, the lights were dim when Kate stepped into the break room and she sighed as she spotted Lanie curled up on a couch. There was definitely trouble if Lanie was sleeping in the break room during her shift.

"Lanie."

From the way the ME's eyes popped open, Kate assumed she hadn't really been sleeping.

Kate leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Esposito looked a little worse for wear this morning."

"Don't know why," the other woman replied, pushing herself up to a sitting position. "From what I hear he actually slept."

The detective allowed the worry to show. It wasn't like Lanie to sleep at the morgue or pull a double when the case could wait. Lanie took careful care of herself. Kate had always kind of envied it. "Lanie, what's going on?"

The ME sighed, dropping her head into her hands. "I don't know," she answered.

"You know your side," Kate pointed out.

Lanie stood in obvious agitation, heading for the kettle. She needed to do something with her hands. "He told me he loves me, you know. Right after he was shot."

Kate didn't reply. She'd learned long ago that the best way to get a story out of Lanie was to keep her mouth shut and just let the other woman talk.

"Yes, that's fantastic. And I'm still… awed by it."

Kate smiled, entertained, in a twisted way, by Lanie's insecurity. Most people didn't realize Lanie had as many relationship hang ups as anyone else. The woman was confident, yes. Extremely confident, in fact. But she was also human.

"But if he loves me, why won't he introduce me to his family?" Lanie turned back to Kate, utterly baffled.

That startled the detective. From the little Esposito had shared about his family, Kate had been under the impression that they were extremely important to him. She had knew from experience that Lanie was important to him.

"He talks about them, you know," Lanie went on as the kettle whistled. "He's got a sister, Anna, in Jersey. The rest of them live in Queens, close to his parents, but not Anna. She's the youngest and closest to Javi."

Kate wasn't surprised when Lanie brought two mugs over, but beyond dunking the bag a few times, Kate put the tea aside. She wasn't a big fan of the stuff as a general rule.

"His sister, Mari, is the oldest. She lives down the street from his parents with her husband and two kids. It's her, then Javi, then three brothers and Anna. Two of the brothers are married. Only one has kids. Well, a kid." She blew out a breath.

Kate wondered how _busy_ Esposito's parents had been. Then, disgusted with the thought forced it out.

"She immigrated, you know," Lanie continued, looking down into her own mug. "From Puerto Rico. Javi likes telling the story. Makes her sound like a hero, he says."

The detective reached out for her friend. "Sounds like you know a lot about them.

Lanie closed her eyes. "That's my point. I know all of that because Javier told me, not because _they_ told me."

"Oh, Lanie." What else could she say?

"I don't know what to do," Lanie admitted. "I've dropped all the hints in the world, Kate. _All _of them. And still… nothing. God, he talks to me about cases! About the stuff you guys, we all, see every day. He can't seriously believe his family is anywhere near as traumatizing as what the job entails."

Kate wished, with all her heart, that there was something, _anything_, she could say to her best friend. But she didn't seem to have the same ability to say the right thing. "Have you… asked him?" she settled on. "Outright?"

Lanie looked up with glassy eyes. "I shouldn't have to."

They both knew that said everything.

But Lanie went on anyway. "He should want to."

She should be important enough.

Kate sighed. "I wish I could tell you to give it time." But it had been almost a year. He'd had more than enough time.

"You know," the ME said after a moment. "I'm not one to believe in superstitions or… the universe, or whatever. But… what if this is a sign? What if-"

"It's not and you make a mistake in breaking up wit him?" Kate asked softly. "Lanie, you're talking to the queen of what ifs. You can't go down that path." She squeezed her friend's leg where her hand still rested. "You either believe in him and this relationship now, or you don't. And I know you. If you didn't believe in it, you'd have kicked him to the curb by now."

Lanie smiled slightly. "You really think he has a good reason?"

If he wasn't an idiot. But Kate kept that point to herself and offered her best friend a smile as her phone chimed. "I really think he believes he has a good reason," she agreed, checking Mark's text. She sighed and offered Lanie and apologetic smile.

"Go," Lanie said, waving her hand in understanding.

"You sure? It's just a notification. Sookhold can handle it without me." After this conversation there was a part of her that wanted him too.

Lanie shook her head. "I'll be fine, You prefer to do those yourself anyway."

"You know where I am," Kate said. Then she paused at the break room door. "Alexis has been bugging me about a Girls' Night. Why don't you call me when you're off shift? You can come over. We'll spend some quality time with George Clooney."

"I say if you don't mind the intrusion and are willing to provide copious amounts of alcohol, I'm in."

Kate laughed. "It's a deal." Then she was out of the morgue, replying to Mark's text that she'd handle the notification herself and hit her speed dial. There was only one person she wanted with her on this notification, and it wasn't her NYPD partner.

It was her real one.

"I thought you didn't want distractions."

"Something came up. I'll be by in twenty minutes."

"Ooh! A quickie. Feeling naughty, Detective?"

She smiled. "No. A notification."

She knew he'd sobered immediately. "I'll be out front."

* * *

_I'm not on drugs (slight painkillers don't count right now) and I've never done drugs. Thus, the information here may be inaccurate due to the liberal use of the internet and Google. Some of it I trust because some of the chatboards on which I found the information disturbed me. Greatly. Because they were people who had tried such things. _

_At this point, I don't expect there to be any ongoing discussion of drug use other than in these kind of circumstances. If that bothers you, no one will hold it against you for walking away. If it does come up in the future, I will do my best to warn you._

_And apparently, if I'm not breaking Kate's heart, I'm breaking Lanie's. It was an interesting dynamic to write the role reversal between them, but Lanie can't always be the voice of reason! Sometimes she needs someone else to do that for her, and who better than her best friend? I know mine likes to kick me in the rear when I'm being stupid. Best friends are useful like that._

_Review please._


	3. Chapter 3

**Around the World Series**

_Part Five_

North American Dream

Chapter 3

. . . . .

Rick reached for her hand the minute he was secure in her police issue. "I thought you had a partner for this stuff."

Kate did, but it wasn't the same. And, more importantly, Lanie's issues had shaken her. She needed Rick's presence, reassurance and understanding. She was trying to be good when it came to Sookhold and Rick, really she was, but there were two major extenuating circumstances. One, Rick understood what notifications did to her, what they meant to her. Two, Sookhold still couldn't settle her the way Rick's mere presence did. If she needed Rick's physical presence and reassurance she was damned well going to take advantage of it while she still had it.

"When was the first time I met Martha?" she asked softly.

"When she bailed me out of jail," he replied without having to think about it. "Maybe… two days after we met?"

Kate felt a smile drift over her face. Sometimes it baffled her that they'd made it here. Their relationship, of any kind, had essentially started when he offered to sign whatever she wanted him to. She'd retorted by hauling him into interrogation.

"Is that what this is about?" he asked, echoing her quiet tone. "Lanie and Esposito?"

She sighed. Of course he'd know. "He won't take her to meet his family. And it's been almost a year."

"Ah," Rick said, squeezing her hand. When it came to her friends, her family, his Kate always got emotional and as protective as a mother bear. When it came to her best friend, Rick knew those emotions ran even deeper.

"And you met my dad within six months," Kate added.

Well, more like three, but she still didn't know about that. "Sweetheart, we didn't exactly start our relationship from scratch."

She shot him a curious and confused look at the next red light.

"We were very good friends first," he reminded her. "So when our relationship became romantic, a lot of things crowded on top of each other. Some of the rites of passage didn't apply."

"They've exchanged I love yous."

"You know there's no step-by-step to a relationship," Rick pointed out.

Her shoulders sagged.

"This is something else, isn't it? You're not worried about _us_ are you?" Worry infused his voice, and despite trying, made it shake.

God, she hadn't wanted to talk about it. Because she didn't want it to come to this. With his upcoming departure their emotions about their relationship and each other were so much closer to the surface than usual. Too close.

"No," Kate finally answered. "_No_. But it… upset me. Depressed me." _And I needed to see you_.

He heard that without her saying it and knew notifications, by nature were difficult for her. Compounded with Lanie's troubles, he understood why she wanted him along. So he squeezed her hand. "He must have a good reason."

"That's what I told her," Kate shrugged only slightly surprised when Rick said no more. She had, admittedly, assumed Rick knew Esposito's reasoning. "That doesn't always help."

He nodded slightly. "Are you going to talk to him?"

"It's not my place?" She chuckled when pride flashed over his face. "You're Mister Fix-It when it comes to relationships. I assumed you'd offer."

"My time off is spent with my own very important women. I can't play Doctor Matchmaker at the same time."

"You know, you could just tell me to leave it be. Of course, Lanie always meddled with us."

"I don't know if I'd say meddle," Rick argued. "She just… Made you see I was perfect for you."

She eyed him. "When you say things like that, I start to wonder if you have a secret life as a romance novelist."

"I'll never tell," he teased.

"If I'm going to be your wife, I should know these things," she retorted.

"Maybe I'll tell you on our wedding night." He shot her a hot look, then took in their surroundings in a blatant attempt to change the subject. "Where are we going?"

"Queens, coincidentally," she replied. "Sheridan Knockwood's parents live there."

He released a sound she recognized all too well.

"What is it?"

"Your druggie was from Queens, wasn't he?" Rick asked, recalling the information from the night before.

Her brow knit again. "You think they know each other. That is too much of a coinincidence. It was a _car accident_."

"And yet you, as a homicide detective, are investigating it. Which tells me those finely honed detective skills are screaming foul play. In fact, I can here them from here."

She huffed out of slight irritation. "Do I ever surprise you?"

"Every day since we met and every day 'til I die."

This time, she narrowed her eyes. "When we get home, I'm checking your laptop."

"Password protected." It hadn't been until she moved in and he caught her reading his drafts of _Naked Heat, _but he had since increased his 'security'.

"Computer crimes owes me."

He arched an eyebrow.

"Okay, they love me."

"They drool over you."

"That's stereotypical."

"It's true."

"Jealous?"

"I don't have reason to be." Rick raised her hand to his mouth to brush a kiss across the back.

This time, she rolled her eyes, though there was no annoyance in the gesture. "The point is, they can get in."

"I'll move everything this afternoon."

"You will not," she retorted. And then, because her sadness had lifted enough she felt she could find her stoic-yet-apologetic detective face again, she laughed. Then shook her head. "Thank you."

"It's the least I can do for letting me come with you," he replied. "I miss you."

Kate sucked in a deep breath, then glanced over. "I promised Lanie a girls' night tonight but I'll bring the file home tomorrow?"

"I'll order Chinese," he grinned.

She echoed it. "It's a date."

* * *

Mark Sookhold was of the mild-mannered sort. It was why he'd been assigned to the hot-tempered Jason Juddoo before the man had been tragically murdered. There were very few things that got under Mark's skin and even fewer that he allowed to do so. But seeing Beckett return to the precinct with Castle in tow itched at him.

It was petty and it was most definitely immature but Mark couldn't help himself. _He_ was her partner, so it bothered him when she let Castle take that place. More importantly, even after proving himself as a competent, reliable team member, he hadn't quite gotten the inside track he expected to find once his transfer was official. He still felt like an outsider, like there were a lot of inside jokes he was missing. There were still things he felt like he did wrong and wasn't totally sure he'd ever get right. It was always worse during the now-rare visits Castle made to the Twelfth. There was a disconnect, a missing piece. Like they forgot he was there.

It was that part that was difficult. It wasn't that he _needed_ to be part of the in-crowd but these were the people he routinely trusted his life to. It did feel like a little bit of a blow when they went off into their own little world. And he was watching that now, from his desk, as Ryan and Esposito greeted the writer enthusiastically. Beckett was shaking her head with a smile Mark would probably label as affectionate.

Still, she plopped to her chair with a sigh.

March arched an eyebrow. "You talk to the Knockwoods?"

"Yeah," Beckett answered and Mark watched a heavy weight settle on her shoulders. Notifications took a toll on Beckett worse than he'd ever seen. "All they know is their daughter was visiting girlfriends last night. They figured she just drank too much and slept over."

"She died in a car accident," Mark replied. "Even Doctor Parish's findings show that."

Beckett stopped shuffling the papers on her desk, raising her head slowly. "What are you saying?"

Mark knew, without a shadow of a doubt, he'd just said the wrong thing. Still, he barreled on. "ME findings and CSU evidence point to a COD as the crash injuries. Even if Kelvin Reinhart OD'd in the process, that's a problem for narco. We've got thirty open homicides on our desk so why are we investigating a car accident?"

"Has CSU ruled out tampering with the cars?" Beckett asked after a moment's consideration. "Have they tested the drugs we found? Have we ruled out gang ties for the drugs or for Reinhart?"

Mark shook his head.

"Look," she said, leaning forward and dropping her voice. "When it comes to us, this team, when we get a case, we exhaust _all avenues_ before ruling out homicide. Every victim deserves to have their story told to it's fullest because if done right, the wrong person could have their entire life ruined in the blink of an eye."

She would know, Mark reflected, because she'd been wrongfully accused. Still… "That's not our job."

"It is our job until we prove it isn't," she replied.

There was a bit of a stand-off before they both looked up, feeling eyes on them.

"You boys got something?" Beckett asked and Mark, though he wasn't looking at her, could hear the lift of her eyebrow.

There was a bit of a scramble to get to the murder board. Esposito won. Barely. Mark watched Castle brush a hand against Beckett's should before heading to the break room. It wasn't the first time Mark had concluded that for this team, it was always about the little gestures.

"Kelvin Reinhart," Esposito began, snapping Mark's attention back to the case. "Twenty-six. Born and raised in Queens."

"He's got a rap sheet from the minute he turned eighteen. Literally," Ryan picked up seamlessly. "He was picked up for a handful of auto-related crimes on his birthday."

"But that's not surprising since he's got a sealed juvenile record," Esposito added. "Double when the brother is under lock and key in California for violating one too many felony drug laws."

"So drug dealing runs in the family," Beckett said, accepting the coffee Castle had returned with. The writer took to studying the crude murder board over her shoulder. If they ruled this a homicide, they'd clean it up. "What about Sheridan Knockwood?"

"Twenty-eight," Mark answered as Ryan's desk phone rang and he trotted away to answer it. "Native to Queens, moved to Rochester after graduating NYU. Siblings, but not a single one has collected so much as a speeding ticket. No drug connection."

"No," Ryan spoke up heading back. "But Lanie found one." Mark saw Esposito's face go stormy as Ryan stopped at Beckett's desk to complete the transfer.

"Lanie?" the female detective called.

"Right here, Girl," the ME's voice came through the speaker phon. They all crowded around to hear her over the bullpen noise. "I had the lab boys do some research into some of the chemical concentrations in Kelvin Reinhart's blood."

"And?" Beckett prompted.

"Seems like there's an epidemic goin' around. Reinhart's official COD is cocaine overdose, specifically mixed with ecstasy. The benzodiazepine only serves to hold the high, tipping them over the edge."

"Kind of a wide array," Castle offered.

"Until you find that the chemical signatures match _exactly_. Ecstasy is synthetic, so the specific use of chemicals is often unique to the manufacturer." She paused. "One of the techs is pretty familiar with narcotics – don't ask – and she's pretty sure Kelvin Reinhart's death can be connected with seven other deaths in Queens and Brooklyn over the last three months."

Seven deaths. Even Mark had to whistle.

"Lanie, can you forward those files?"

"'Course," Lanie answered. "I'll double-check the results on the other autopsies."

Mark grinned. She was damned good and mostly without asking.

"Thanks."

"No problem." Then she paused. "Girl, pick up the phone?"

The men exchanged a look as Beckett did just that and Mark saw the stormy look on Esposito's face go darker. Oh. Serious issues. He'd figured that when the Hispanic man had snapped at them all that morning – not that Beckett's swift departure didn't support the notion – but it looked like it was more than he'd initially thought.

"Everything okay, Bro?" Ryan asked. It was one of the few times Mark was thankful for the familial relationship within the team.

"Yeah," Esposito snapped, turning on his heel and heading back to his desk. "Fine."

But the quiet tone of Beckett's voice on the phone told Mark that wasn't exactly true. Great. A case that wasn't a case and personal problems with the most temperamental team member. Oh yeah, and Castle. God, this day was shaping up to be just fantastic.

* * *

_So, had I known that the Girls' Night scene I wanted to write wouldn't work out, I would have posted this absolutely ages ago. As it was, I fought and fought and fought until I decided that it wasn't necessary. The next chapter is going to jump a handful of days and that's the only reason this note is here. I'm trying to actually keep the notes to a minimum. _

_My "apologies" for this taking so long. And if you're Memoir followers, I have the chapter to do the last review and I'll post it as soon as I edit it. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Around the World Series**

_Part Five_

North American Dream

Chapter 4

. . . . .

"So?"

Javier shot a confused glance to his partner. "So what?"

Kevin shot him a look he usually reserved for the criminals that lied. Badly. "So, tell me."

"Tell you what?" Javier didn't like riddle games. Puzzles, okay, but riddles? That was why he had Kevin. And Beckett.

"So tell me what you did to have Lanie calling me, instead of you, and being snappy about it to boot," Kevin retorted as he merged smoothly onto the I-195 towards Queens. Since Beckett had fielded the Knockwood interview and Kevin and Javier had been stuck on research, they'd both been very happy to nominate themselves for the interview with Kelvin Reinhart's family. And Kevin wasn't stupid enough to pass up an opportunity to pick away at Javier.

Though Kevin had given the Hispanic detective a difficult time when he'd started dating Lanie, the Irishman was actually happy with the turn out. He worried, as partners did, about Javier off the clock. Beckett had found Castle to give her some relief and some time away from the precinct and Kevin had Jenny, but Javier, for the longest time, didn't have a real way of getting away from the stuff they saw. Or, more appropriately, someone who could listen to the things they saw. And Lanie could do that in spades.

So, contrary to the face he was putting on, it bothered him that Javier was having trouble with Lanie. It bothered him more than just a bit, too. As much as he wanted to get to the bottom of the problem for the sake of curiosity, he also wanted to do it to make sure that Javier wasn't making a stupid mistake.

"What makes you think it's my fault?" Javier snapped. "Maybe she's being… unreasonable."

"Maybe she is. But since we're born and bred to understand that it's always our fault, I'm going with that theory until you can prove otherwise."

"That's a violation of my rights."

Kevin shot him a look as traffic slowed to a crawl. "You're invoking your rights on a _relationship question_?"

Because they'd been here before, both with Kevin as the interrogator, and the reverse. They were partners, had been partners a long time, and they'd gotten to know each other. Plus, he was Javier's 'guy'. As often as Castle was included in that friendship, at the end of the day, it always came down to the two of them.

Kevin tried not to grin in victory when Javier sighed.

"Lain wants to meet Mam."

It was an innocuous statement at best. Javier's mother was a formidable woman, yes, but not terrifying enough to warrant such a reaction. They'd been dating for a year, they were in love with each other. Kevin could see the logic in allowing Lanie into his family circle. The Espositos were loud, yes, but they were friendly and warm-hearted, welcoming and overwhelming. Kevin was pretty sure Lanie had a pretty big family of her own though, so she'd probably fit right in with the myriad of Espositos that gathered at Mam's house every week.

"Okay."

Javier blew out a breath. "See? I knew you wouldn't understand."

"Of course not. I'm not in your head, thank God, and I _wanted_ Jenny to meet my mom. And my dad. We'd been dating more than long enough."

"The damned thing shouldn't have a timeline on it," Javier snapped. "It's not like, hey, six months, this means it's time for a vacation away."

Okay, Kevin realized, he had to re-think his attack strategy. "You don't want Lanie to meet Mam."

"Look, Lanie… Lanie's clean. She's good, she's white, she's every stupid metaphor. But that neighbourhood? Those people? She deserves better than that. And you know there's no way my _familia_ is going to fit anywhere but Mam's dining room."

And Kevin knew there were _explicit_ reasons why the Espositos didn't go out in public when they were all together. It had something to do with Marco and a bad experience in a banquet hall at a family function.

Still, it bothered him, more than he'd ever admit to his partner, that Javier was against introducing Lanie to his family because of the neighbourhood. It seemed petty, in some ways, and very anti-commitment. Kevin was a believer in the importance of introducing a significant other to the family, especially in situations where family was important to one or both parties. He couldn't fathom any excuse in the world as to why Javier would refuse.

"You think the _neighbourhood_ is what's important to Lanie?"

"Of course not," Javier snapped. "She ain't stupid."

"Then I really don't get it," Kevin admitted. "She's smart enough to see the neighbourhood as a piece of a whole, see your family as a more stabilizing piece, and yet you're still reluctant."

"It's not that easy."

"Of course not. Nothing worth it ever is."

Javier shot him a dirty look. "Want me to hold your purse?"

"Want me to find your balls?" Kevin shot back. "Dude, man up. Or she'll kick you to the curb."

Javier didn't like that idea one bit. He didn't want to rock the boat, didn't want to risk ruining things with Lanie because she mattered too damned much. Couldn't anyone see that?

They made the rest of the drive in tense silence, both of them on opposite sides of the argument and refusing to give way. It wasn't often that they argued, at least not about things that mattered. And Lanie mattered. It was the problem of a metaphorically incestuous friendship.

They hadn't solved the problem, or spoken more about it, by the time Kevin pulled into the address of Mary and Stefan Reinhart. Both of them were, in a sense, thankful for the interview they were about to conduct, if for no other reason than separating themselves from the personal problem that was becoming almost pervasive.

Mary was the one who opened the door. "Can I help you?"

They both flashed their badges.

"We need to speak to you about your son, Kelvin."

Her eyes darkened, as if knowing exactly where this was going. "What did he do?"

Both detectives filed away the reaction.

Javier stepped up. "He was killed last night, ma'am. In a car accident."

She stepped aside with a tight smile. "I guess it's better than a drug overdose."

"We're not certain on that," Kevin told her with an apologetic smile. The woman shut the door behind them and waved them into the living room. "Drugs weren't new?"

"No," Mary admitted. "He's been a drug addict since he was a teenager." She looked up at them. "You have to understand, out here, it's…"

"A way of life," Javier offered.

She sighed. "You're from Queens."

"I am," Javier agreed.

"So you know that… If you're not part of the drugs, you're killed by them. Maybe an overdose, maybe to send someone a lesson. If your lucky," she acknowledged with a small smile. "You get out. Kelvin wasn't so lucky."

Kevin withdrew Sheridan Knockwood's picture. "Do you know this woman?"

Mary shook her head. "No. I've never seen her before."

"Did your son ever talk about Sheridan?" Javier inquired.

"My son barely made it home. I have no idea who his friends are."

Javier didn't believe that. As much as drugs were ways of life, the grapevine in Queens' neighbourhoods rivaled the watercooler gossip at the precinct. Javier knew from experience. "Was he associated with a particular group?"

"Like a gang? No. He ran with Johnny."

Javier was on edge immediately. The name struck a chord, rang a bell, though 'Johnny' wasn't exactly an uncommon name. "Johnny what?"

"Um…" Mary was obviously wracking her brain, trying to think of the man's last name. "Hanson. Johnny Hanson."

Javier stiffened at the same moment Kevin's phone rang. He apologized quietly and glanced at it. Not recognizing the number, he offered an apologetic look to Mary and a significant one to Javier. His partner could handle the interview for a few seconds, though he wasn't oblivious to the Hispanic man's less-than-comfortable expression.

"Ryan."

"Kevin?"

It took the detective a moment to place the thickly accented voice. "Mam?"

"_Si_. I need _un favor_, Kevin."

It put him on edge immediately. Getting a call from the matriarch of the Esposito family was a new experience for Kevin and he was a little wary of the outcome. They'd met, more than once, because Mam had been adamant that she meet her son's partner and Kevin, coming from a family of cops, could definitely understand that. But a phone call? "Okay…"

"My Javi. He has a girl, yes?"

"Yes," Kevin answered. It wasn't like it was a secret.

"This girl, she is ugly?"

Kevin almost laughed. Though Lanie wasn't his type, he definitely wouldn't classify her as ugly. "No, Mam."

"She is stupid, then?"

"She's a medical examiner. Med school doesn't allow idiots to graduate."

"She is… _adecuado_? Not good enough?"

"She's not." And Kevin believed that. Very much so. Lanie was more than good enough for Javier.

"Well, my Javi has not brought this Lanie to visit."

Kevin was on the verge of laughing at this point, simply because Mam sounded so upset. "He told me."

"He did? So there is trouble?"

"Not really." He paused, glancing back towards the living room. He was still working, so he didn't really have time for twenty questions. "Mam, what do you need?"

Silence floated over the line for a moment. "I need Miss Lanie's phone number."

Kevin only hesitated for a split second. Then he listed it off by heart. He was old school with his numbers, memorizing them instead of simply pressing the contact.

"Gracias, Kevin. You come for dinner soon. I put meat on your bones."

Kevin grinned. Sometimes the stereotype Mam embodied amused him to no end. "Sure thing."

Javier looked up the minute Kevin stepped back into the living room. Kevin apologized again and catalogued the dark shadow in his partner's face. Javier stood and Kevin understood that there was nothing else he felt they could get from the woman. That, more than anything, clued him into Javier's decision that they had everything they needed. What that 'everything' was, Kevin wasn't totally sure. So he asked the minute they were settled in the car.

Javier didn't answer immediately, just kept his eyes out the window. Finally, he turned to his partner.

"I know Johnny Hanson."

* * *

Amelia Susana Isabel Esposito had one fundamental rule: don't mess with Mam.

She had raised four rowdy boys and two equally as rowdy girls into loving contributing adults with that one fundamental rule. Yet here she was, with a son that was blatantly ignoring it. She'd sworn, multiple times, in all four languages she knew at her Javier.

The boy wouldn't bring his _novia_ home.

And he knew he had one. Amelia knew her children like the back of her extremely competent hands. Her Javi had a girl and she'd had to resort to underhanded tactics to figure it out.

Never had she been more thankful for Kevin Ryan in her life.

Javier had brought Kevin by more than once. They were partners, and Amelia knew that the pasty Irishman watched her baby boy's back from dawn until dusk. They made sure the other made it home, safe, sound and in one piece. Or at least with minimal scarring. In fact, the first time Amelia had met Kevin had also been the first time she'd met Kate. Cinco de Mayo.

Amelia loved a loud house. She always had. With six children and a husband it didn't get much louder. So as her babies started to move out, spread their wings, start their own lives, Amelia had started to build up her own new traditions that kept her family coming back for more. Cinco de Mayo was one of those times. The celebration was beyond massive and one of Amelia's favourite holidays because of all of the people who came and all of the people she met.

Kevin Ryan had been one of those people. And he'd been more than happy to help her in her little plan.

So now, armed with a phone number, Amelia very carefully punched the numbers that would put her through to Doctor Lanie Parish.

"Parish."

"Doctor Lanie Parish?"

. . . . .

Lanie sat up straighter. "Yes. This is she."

"Doctor Parish, my name is Amelia Esposito."

Lanie tensed completely. She had enough of a Spanish accent and Lanie was smart enough to know exactly whom she was talking to.

Javier's mother was calling her.

Calling _her_.

"Can I help you, Mrs Esposito?"

"Mami or Mam, Doctor Parish. I have a question about my boy."

"Javier?" Lanie looked down at her feet trying to blink back the frustration that welled up in her again. "I'm not sure I'm the best person to ask."

"You are with him yes? Dating?"

"Yes," Lanie answered. There had been no mention of a break up. Just… Just a lot of frustration. A lot of hinting.

"And yet, you have not come by."

"Mrs Esposito-"

"Mam."

Lanie smiled. There was fire in this woman. "Mam. I… It's not deliberate."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

_An invitation_, she thought, but there was something that told her Javier's mother wouldn't be all that accepting of the idea that Javier wouldn't bring a woman home.

"You come this week."

Lanie's head shot up. _What?_

"You come this week."

The repetition forced Lanie to accept that she'd actually asked the question. Out loud. She hoped to God she sound as incredulous as the single word had sounded in her head.

"I'm not sure-"

"I will tell _mi niño tonto_ to bring you this week. We have dinner on Sundays."

Of course they did. And, well, if Javier's mother was going to be the one to talk to him, Lanie figured she could explain this away. She was backed into a corner. How was she supposed to say no to the woman? What did Javier think, she was a saint? Insane, maybe? Hadn't he said more than once that saying 'no' to his mother was the dumbest thing anyone could ever do?

Sounded good enough for her.

"I don't think I have plans on Sunday," Lanie said.

"You change the plans," came the warning. "This week, _niña_."

Lanie grinned. "Okay."

"Good."

Lanie bit her lip for a moment. Then, "Can I bring something?"

"No, no, no," came the quick response. "You bring you. That is enough."

"Yes Mam."

There was obvious happiness in the voice that replied, "Good answer."

* * *

_I know I say this a million times, but I could not get Javier and Kevin to behave. It took me forever to get even that sketched out. Which would be the fundamental reason behind why this took… Huh. Maybe a couple of weeks isn't so bad. But still. I'd hoped that it wouldn't be week-upon-week between updates. _

_I hope you guys like Mam. I do. You've only really seen parts of her, but I'm hoping she'll be a fun character. And the case kink I was having problems with finally worked itself out too. So…. Happy days all around. At least on my end. With this._

_Thanks for reading!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Around the World Series**

_Part Five_

North American Dream

Chapter 5

. . . . .

Domestically, very little had changed since Rick and Kate had released their engagement announcement. Beyond Kate's impressive if relatively small diamond and a thrilled tension winding it's way through the loft's very pipes. Alexis, Kate, Rick, at the odd time Martha, and even Jim lived the way they always had. It was comfort and necessity.

And fun.

"I've got it! Highway robbery!"

Kate arched a delicate eyebrow, both at the absurd theory and at the tomato sauce he'd just splattered all over the kitchen. And all over her.

Rick grinned unrepentantly and reached over to smooth some of the sauce away with his thumb. "What if _she_ was the druggie?"

"There is absolutely no evidence to indicate she was a user, past or present. Sheridan Knockwood was clean."

"That's the beauty of it!" he exclaimed. "Perfect hit."

"In a car," she said in disbelief.

He nodded enthusiastically.

"In the dead of night?"

He nodded again.

"When we found absolutely no connection between Sheridan Knockwood and Kelvin Reinhart."

He leaned towards her. "Greatest hit ever."

Then came her grin, the one that said she was onto him and had figured out exactly what he was trying to do.

It had been a few days since the promise to make a date night out of case files. It happened more than once over the course of their relationship. But his high-tech smartboard was set up in the living room, her case files spread on the coffee table. He'd chosen to cook spaghetti, a comfort food to both of them as well as being relatively quick and easy, if you failed to include Kate's family sauce recipe. It wasn't the promised Chinese, but the premise was the same.

"It's still insane. And improbable."

"CIA again?" Alexis inquired as she bounded down the stairs. Kate grinned as she headed over and wrapped an arm around the redhead's shoulder.

"A hit," the detective replied. "Against-" she turned to Rick with her 'puzzle' face on. "Actually, which one is the victim?"

"Sheridan Knockwood, of course," he replied, stirring the sauce and turning down the pasta. "One hundred percent innocent. No one suspects she's a notorious drug dealer."

Alexis nodded seriously.

"Our other victim is a drug addict. They died in a car accident," Kate provided as qualifying evidence. It was as much as she was willing to share with the young woman. There was still a part of her that felt terrible for allowing Rick to tag along and see death for himself. The least she could do was protect Alexis.

Alexis snatched a piece of tomato Kate had been cutting.

"What's his supporting evidence?"

Kate looked to Rick who grinned. She rolled her eyes. "It would make a good story," she said in exasperation, simultaneously with his gleeful exclamation.

Alexis watched as they made 'gooey eyes' at each other and smiled to herself. It was sweet, adorable, and gave her metaphorical cavities, but she was so happy and so excited for the wedding. Her dad was happy and the most relaxed Alexis had ever seen Kate was wrapped contentedly in her father's arms. Alexis couldn't help but be happy.

"Dad, when are you going to learn? You make the story fit the evidence, not the other way around." But the perceptive redhead was also onto her father's antics. Along with the wedding tension there was also a more desperate tension too, and Alexis knew what it was about. It used to bother Alexis too and it was still hard. But she was, well, 'used' to it. This would be the first time since Kate had been shot that the couple would really be separated.

"But!" Rick was grinning, unable to stop himself.

Alexis held up a hand, as if this was a long-standing routine. "No but. Be real."

Kate started to chuckle, then started to laugh. It settled over Rick like a balm and before long, he was laughing along with her. Alexis' laugh followed suit. It was warm and carefree, devoid of the stress that often seemed to permeate the air when a case was on the table.

When the laughter died down, Alexis leaned over to press a kiss to Kate's cheek. "I'm off. Don't stay up too late."

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Rick told her as Alexis skipped around the island to repeat the action for her father. "Wait, do _everything_ I would do."

Alexis rolled her eyes, as she always did. "I'll be back by eleven."

Rick grinned at Kate as the door swung shut. He switched off the burners and was around to her side before she could blink. "Alexis is gone."

There was a desperation in his touch as he slid his hands up her thighs and Kate felt it heat her blood. Was it sad that all she wanted to do was let him slide those hands all over her from now until the day he left? "I know," she replied. "Is that why you turned off the stove?"

He shook his head lifting her slight weight easily until she was settled on the island. He stepped in, wedging himself between her thighs.

"Oh," she breathed, leaning in to kiss him, slowly, wetly.

Rick lifted Kate's shirt over her head. "Now you're catching on."

* * *

Knowing Johnny Hanson ensured that what looked like a simple car accident hit much too close to home for Javier to feel comfortable.

It was a nasty, messy history, one Javier absolutely _hated_ to dwell on, let alone think about. It was a time he'd been struggling to find a fit. Now, he was aware every teenager struggled through the same issues, but at the time, he'd felt alone and isolated. He and Johnny had been friends for over a decade at that point and it was almost too easy and too smooth to follow him, to slide into the family gangs replaced. Yet, he'd never been fully comfortable there either. He still loved his family, still attended every Sunday dinner, and getting involved with Johnny and the gang had merely given him an outlet for the angst and responsibility his family had heaped on him.

He hadn't found his fit until he'd gone through the military and merged into the NYPD. He'd found his home, his niche and never looked back.

He still didn't want to.

But he didn't have a choice. And if Beckett's gut was right – and Javier had worked with her long enough to know while she spouted the line about fighting for the victims there was something else about the case that was itching at her – this was going to drag him through the worst pieces and the dirtiest coals of exactly what he'd tried so hard to leave behind.

He'd been working all but around the clock since they'd made the connection to Johnny. If anyone else had noticed his exhaustion, irritability and general crankiness, no one had said a thing. No one had pushed. And Javier had been damned glad for it.

Nevertheless, he wasn't an idiot. It was only a matter of time before someone called him out and he knew it.

The ding of the elevator and the rhythmic clicking of heels had him wondering if his time was up.

"Sookhold's long gone, Ryan's gone, hell even my girl went home, yet you're still here. Wanna explain that?"

He hated that the smell of her set him on edge, but flipped the casefile shut, just before Lanie reached him. She raised an eyebrow when he adopted a look of utter innocence.

"Workin'."

"Uh huh." But she wasn't stupid. They both knew it. "You slept in the last week?"

"Been workin' Cari. Doesn't leave much time for sleep."

It wasn't like him though. It was one thing Lanie had been heartened to learn. Javier knew that exhausted cops were sloppy cops. He took it to heart. These back-to-back-to back late nights were uncharacteristic.

As was the haunted look in his eyes.

It was the haunted look that both disturbed and worried her more than the lack of sleep.

Lanie reached out, cupping his cheek and running her thumb over the shadows under his eyes. "You look like hell, Detective."

He felt like it, but he wasn't ready to admit it. "I'm fine."

The hurt shot through her blood like a shock. Closed off Javier was a dangerous Javier, especially for her emotions. Lanie was a sharer by nature. It came from the family she grew up with. She was still trying to decide if his guardedness was a deal breaker or not. Especially when it was so obvious something was on his mind. She debated for a moment.

"You look like hell," she repeated. "You're not fine."

Now, it was Javier's turn to pause, to consider. His hand came up to cover hers, grasping it, holding it. "The case is keepin' me up."

And away from home, but it didn't take a genius to see either of those consequences. "Come here."

There was a part of him that thrilled at the idea of 'home' meaning the same place for both of them. Another part of him, the part that was irritated at his past and adamant that said past stay buried, revolted at the idea of someone as clean as Lanie being connected with someone as dirty as himself.

"I think I'm going to put in a few hours yet."

This was the type of cop stubbornness that just pissed her off. "Javi-"

"I'll catch some shut eye in a bit."

But when he went to nudge her aside, she caught his hand, then his chin, irritation lighting in her eyes. "It wasn't a question."

"Jesus, Lanie." He wanted to recoil, but the instinctual response just didn't come. Instead, his eyes slid shut at the comfortable warmth she brought.

Lanie sighed. She'd been riding a high for most of the week and half of her decision to come to him centered on talking to him about the phone call with his mother. But she wasn't insensitive and she could put things aside if it meant helping to straighten him out. She dropped the hand on his chin, releasing his hold on him completely. God, she didn't know what to do. "Okay. Okay."

She turned, intending to go home and drown her sorrows in a bottle of wine.

But with an exasperated and irritated growl, Javier snagged her wrist. "Don't."

What else was she supposed to do? But she didn't voice the question aloud, neither did she turn back. But she didn't try to take her wrist back either.

It was an impasse.

At least for a moment.

Then Lanie turned back.

"I didn't come here to fight with you. You're tired and I haven't seen you for a week." She sucked in a breath. "I love you, so I care. They go hand in hand. So I worry. Especially when you look so exhausted." And haunted.

Javier squeezed her wrist. "It's personal."

It was always personal. Murder was personal. And as long as the case was on their laps they'd work it like it fit the criteria for homicide. But there was something in his expression, a tension in his shoulders that made her think that 'personal' had a whole other meaning. Part of her wanted to push. She didn't. Instead, she stood, poised, ready, waiting.

And felt relief when his decision was to stand and turn to her.

"Let's go home."

It didn't take a cop to know it was only a Band-Aid. This required stitches and for the first time since she'd finished med school, Lanie wasn't sure she had the skills to sew up his wound.

* * *

Kate sighed as she flipped through the evidence for the fifth time that night. After their round on the counter, she'd sent them for round two on the couch. Now, he sat in his boxers while she wore his shirt and her panties. It would be deliciously tempting if they weren't sated and maybe a bit lethargic.

"I can't get over the feeling that she's more than just an innocent bystander," Rick murmured, rubbing against her arm absently. It was a gesture of reassurance and subconscious on his part.

"I can't get out of my head that she is," she responded, closing her eyes for a moment. "There is absolutely nothing to point us in that direction, Rick."

"I know," he promised, "It's just… stuck."

She tilted her head up at him. "We're not getting anywhere, are we?"

He blew out a breath. "No."

It disappointed him. How many times had he managed to give her the right tip, say the right thing, hell, break the case himself?

"Maybe Sookhold was right," Kate said. She didn't need to see his raised eyebrow to know he was asking the question. "Maybe this really is just a car accident."

"You don't believe that."

"But I can't find anything to the contrary."

He felt _terrible_. He helped her. He always helped her. He sighed as he kissed the side of her head. "Why don't we put it aside?"

She sighed, but did it. He'd taught her that, the importance of taking a step back. She slid the file onto the coffee table, then cuddled into his side. They sat there, silently but together, absorbing each other.

"You know, there's a part of me that's glad you're going away," she said quietly, running her fingers over his on her hip.

"Oh?" He wasn't happy about it. None of him was happy about it.

Kate tilted her head back. "Mmm." She kissed his jaw. "You still shouldn't see this."

He laughed. "A little late, don't you think?"

"Yeah," she agreed with a rueful smile. "But that doesn't change it." She stroked a hand over his cheek. "You're a writer. I'm the cop."

He nuzzled her ear. Cuddly, affectionate Kate was still so rare to see. "Doesn't matter. You see it, I see it."

"Is this the part where you tell me marriage means what's mine is yours?" she asked dryly, tilting her chin.

Rick obliged her, kissing her mouth gently. When he pulled away, however, his face was serious. "No one should see this. None of it. Some of the things you see, some of the things you handle…"

She knew what he was trying to say and cupped his neck. "And you help," she promised.

He couldn't help darting his gaze to their piles of pages. "I don't seem to be here."

"Like I said, maybe the car accident's just a car accident."

"You and I both know that if it's not, it's going to sit on your shoulders. You're going to make sure it does." And she'd count it as a fatal error. It was a misjudgment he knew she couldn't risk. Or, more appropriately, _wouldn't_.

"Aren't you always trying to tell me it'll come? Take a step back, think of something else, and maybe something'll hit you?"

His chuckle was a deep rumble in his chest. "I hate it when you throw my words back in my face."

She loved it. They both knew it. All too often he was very right.

"Alright, Detective Smarty-Pants, what shall we do?"

Kate chewed her lip for a moment. "Dad brought me something a couple of weeks ago, when he was over for dinner."

"Oh?" Rick loved surprises, especially when it came to his fiancée. And she looked utterly adorable when she was nervous. "Do tell."

Kate hummed low in her throat though there was equal chance the sound was a result of the patterns his thumb was tracing on her bare hip. "It'll be easier to show you."

"Intrigue and sex? You know me too well," Rick murmured against her ear.

"My dad brought it," she reminded him on a laugh. She pushed herself up and, with a quick glance to ensure that none of the crime scene photos were in plain sight, she turned back to him. "Come on."

He ran his hand up the back of her thigh just to see her shiver and hear her breath catch. With his departure coming up, he couldn't keep his hands off of her. He smirked as he stood following the sway of her hips as she led him through the office to the bedroom.

She continued to tug him along until she could push him onto the bed. Then she headed back to the dresser. From one of the drawers she pulled an old book. With a deep breath she turned back to find Rick had shuffled to the top of the bed, leaning back against the headboard. She took the hand he held out to her as she climbed onto the bed and cuddle into his side. The book she settled on his thigh.

"My mom and I put this together when I was… eight or so," Kate explained quietly as she flipped open the cover.

He took it in as he wove his hand through her hair to cup her skull. "I thought you told me you'd never torn a picture out of a wedding magazine."

"And I was telling the truth," she replied as she turned the page. "My mom was so much cleaner at ripping and cutting than I was."

The two page spread was colour swatches and notes written in both childish printing and a more elegant hand that was quite obviously Johanna Beckett's.

"I was obsessed," she laughed when the next page revealed a collage of every type of wedding gown. "My mom's cousin had just gotten married in what I thought was the most gorgeous ceremony ever."

"How did you put it all together?" he inquired, his hand sliding out from her hair to stroke against her neck.

"Donations, mostly. Mom and Dad asked around for wedding magazines and Mom and I went out to buy a few. It took us three weeks to finish." Kate smiled as the memory came back. "Mom helped me make sure I had everything."

"I can tell," he replied when the next spread was settings, then food. "She was thorough."

"Like I said, I was obsessed," she said with a s mall laugh. "I think my dolls married each other at least three times."

Rick grinned at the picture. She still spoke so rarely about her childhood that every time she told him a piece he still felt that rush of honour and pride. Plus, this made him feel better about the wedding. Knowing Kate had ideas and preferences made him less anxious about essentially leaving her to plan the wedding without much of his help. He'd been wondering over the last few days if he should suggest hiring a planner. Now he kept the thought to himself.

"This one's my favourite," she said pointing out one of the bouquets on the page. "Purple snowballs, white roses and orchids."

The purple suited her. It was girlie without being stereotypical and while the arrangement was fanciful, the flower choices were down to earth. He smiled, kissing her temple. "We could create a wedding around this."

Kate's eyes shone as she looked at him. "Really?" She turned back and ran a finger over the bouquet's picture. It would mean the world to her, a piece of her mother. Leave it to him to know it.

"Of course," Rick replied. "Purple and white for the colours, Alexis and Lanie both look good in purple, and anything plays off of white."

"Oh," she breathed. He was right. Sometimes she forgot he could be a serious metrosexual.

"We can do the head table in orchids and baby roses. The tables with the snowballs."

"We can do them differently."

He smiled as he kissed her softly. "Kate, money talks. We can do whatever we want." And he'd make sure this day was everything she'd dreamed of, everything she wanted. This was going to be the only time she got married. Nothing less than perfect would suffice.

"Which reminds me," she said, closing the book and setting it aside. She didn't return to the cuddling position of before, but crossed her legs at his thigh, grabbing a pillow for her lap to ensure he didn't get distracted. "You can't pay for everything."

"Why not?" In actuality, he knew it was a point of pride with her. Irrationally, Kate felt like a kept woman when he spent money on her. It was one of the hurdles they still ran into from time to time.

"Because it's _our_ wedding," she replied, watching Rick carefully. It was a sore spot.

And he knew, with Kate, when it was best to not argue, but propose a compromise. "I don't want you to say 'no' to something because of the price," he told her reaching out to stroke her bare knee.

"Rick, we can't go crazy."

"We're only going to get married once Kate. It has to be perfect."

"Money doesn't make perfect," she told him, reaching out to brush a stubborn lock of mussed hair of this forehead. A smile quirked her mouth when it simply fell back to it's place.

"But it helps." He grabbed his hand on the way down. "I don't want you to say 'no' to something because of money," he repeated.

Kate chewed her lip. She still didn't like it, but she knew there was no logical reason to say no, no logical reason to avoid the compromise. He tugged on her hand and she followed to straddle his lap. "Within reason."

"Kate," he warned, sliding his hands up her thighs until they rested on her hips. "Don't be stubborn about this. Please."

"I don't like it," she said, leaning into kiss him.

"You're not the only one in this. After May, what's mine is your sand that includes the money I make." He pressed a finger to her mouth when she opened it. "In this case, I make more."

"A lot more," she said, despite the finger.

"In the opposite, you would be offended if I told you we had to do a wedding on a budget. And Kate, I have a _stupid_ amount of money." He leaned in to press his lips to hers with everything he could muster. "I don't want to keep you, not to the point where you have to financially rely on me. Keeping you has everything to do with needing you in my life. I can't buy your affection. I won't buy your affection."

She knew that. Really she knew that, and more importantly she believed him. SO she sighed and leaned in, echoing his kiss. "I need you too. I'll try not to let money be a problem."

Because he knew it cost her to say it, knew it would grate on her, he made sure his smile was especially wide. "Thank you."

And, just to show her, he started on the buttons of the shirt she wore.

* * *

_I could apologize for this taking about a month to complete, but I know you guys a) understand because I've said it so many times and b) will tell me that you don't mind as long as the chapter does, eventually exist. So I won't apologize. But I will tell you it's Lanie and Esposito's fault for not cooperating one iota in their scene. _

_And yes, this was more relationship focused. I needed it to be. This is as much for me as it is for you in terms of laying the foundations for where the relationships are right now. I'm just hoping that I conveyed what I wanted to. So we'll see what the reviews say. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Around the World Series**

_Part Five_

North American Dream

Chapter 6

. . . . .

John "Johnny" Hanson had been a happy, playful boy. He loved his mother, idolized his father and as a result, did everything he was told. He followed the rules. He had good, solid, loyal friends and knew the importance of those kinds of connections. Javier had been one of those friends.

Things changed when he hit his teens. Growing up, Johnny's father had never pushed him to do anything. Sure, he was proud of the work his old man did and was fascinated by some of the stories he told and yeah, his love of baseball had come from his father, but following in his father's law enforcement footsteps? That had never been Johnny's dream. His father, however, came from generations of cops and expected his son to carry on the tradition. Johnny hadn't appreciated the pressure. The resulting explosion had just barely resisted ripping his family apart at the seams.

Johnny had fought hard against the familial pressure. He did everything his parents had always told him not to do. He experimented with drugs and underage alcohol, fooled around with any girl he wanted, but it wasn't until he embarked on a casual, playful relationship with Lindsay de la Cruz in eleventh grade that things really started to crumble. And it wasn't even her fault.

In hindsight, Johnny knew he should have seen it coming. Javier, like Johnny, had love Joe's stories of the force. He envied the tight friendships and unwavering loyalty. Javier, like Johnny, had idolized Joe Hanson. So while Johnny was out fooling around with Lindsay, Joe had been molding Javier into the very son Johnny had refused to be. By the time Johnny's fling had fizzled, Joe was spending more time with Javier than he even considered spending with his own flesh and blood.

Johnny resented it. His rebellions became bigger, more obvious – arrests, screaming matches, fights and bruises and hospital trips – and sent him on the collision course he didn't even know was coming.

Johnny had been walking with a little more spring in his step the last couple of days. They'd been good ones. After following orders to a "t" with Kelvin, he'd managed to spend the previous night adding a plethora of clients to his list. He had reason to be happy. That didn't mean the pounding that sounded through his grungy apartment in the early hours of the afternoon had him bounding out of bed.

He grumbled and scratched his chest as he unlocked the three chains and six deadbolts. In his line of work, Johnny knew he couldn't be too careful.

"Yeah?"

"You're lookin' a little worse for wear there, Johnny."

The voice was vaguely familiar, but Johnny was still damned tired. He couldn't handle all night raves like he could in his twenties. "Don't know what you're talkin' 'bout."

"No?" Okay, there was a voice Johnny didn't recognizez. "Maybe this'll jog your memory. NYPD."

Well, that sure woke him up faster than a punch to the face. "The hell?" He blinked until his eyes clear. Then he glared. Javier Esposito's face hadn't changed in a decade.

"Yeah, Johnny-boy."

Johnny cursed viciously in Spanish.

Javier's smile was hostile and mean. Really, it was more of a challenging baring of teeth. "Know Kelvin Reinhart?"

"Nope." Short answers, Johnny knew, would serve the dual purpose of pissing off the cops and saving his skin later. The less of a story he told, the less likely he was to be caught in his own lie.

Not that it mattered to Javier. His eyes were hard and unwavering. "You're under arrest."

"What the hell for?" He cursed again in Spanish, this time adding another colourful stream of names for his one-time friend.

"We'll start with possession," the Hispanic replied. "And go from there. Who knows, by the end of the day, we might be able to add Murder One."

Later, Johnny would blame exhaustion instead of Javier's own well-honed, much faster reflexes for his lack of struggle when Javier yanked his hands behind his back. In the next blind, the cuffs were on and Javier was frog marching Johnny out of his apartment.

* * *

When Lanie had texted him about a few of the lab results, he'd already been irritated. He left Ryan to take Johnny back to the precinct while he made the stop at the lab. When she told him yes, Johnny Hanson's fingerprints were in Kelvin Reinhart's car, he had to literally bite his cheek against the nasty words that rose in his throat. Lanie was surprisingly oblivious to his bitter, angry mood. Otherwise, she wouldn't have asked the one simple question that sent everything into a tailspin.

"What can I bring on Sunday?"

"What?"

"Dinner. On Sunday. The one your mother called and invited me to."

"She _what_?"

And Lanie stopped dead. He didn't know. His mother hadn't mentioned the phone call to him, which meant he hadn't told his mother to call her like she'd convinced herself. Which meant nothing had changed. Disappointment sank into her bones despite the fact that she immediately jumped to soothe. _Don't let him see you weak, Elaine_.

"I didn't realize she hadn't told you," Lanie said carefully, starting on the incision again. This time, her movements were as slow, careful and precise as if this was her first autopsy. "I'm sorry, I'll…" God, how did one handle being unwanted? "I'll call her back. Let her know something came up."

She kept her eyes focused on the body in front of her, but she heard him sigh. "Lain, don't do that."

"It's fine," she said, waving the scalpel airily. But _God_ did it hurt.

"It's not fine."

"Of course it is. I should have checked with you first." But his mother had seemed so happy at the idea, so eager…

"Lanie-"

"You don't have to justify it," she interrupted. "They're your family."

"Shut up and let me finish!"

Her head came up slowly, the scalpel limp in her fingers. She weighed her options.

It was enough time for him to spit out, "It's not that I don't want you to meet them."

"You haven't lied to me in a year. Don't start now."

Javier growled. He hated being pushed to the edge. "You really think I'm hidin' them? That you're not good enough? Did you stop and consider maybe I'm hidin' you?" he snapped out.

"From what?" Lanie shot back, her own ire rising. "What are you hiding me from? Their disapproval?"

"Look, do we have to do this now?"

"Of course not," she replied, leaning down to her incision again. "Whenever it's convenient for you."

"Dammit Lanie!" he exploded. "What's with the attitude?"

She went deathly still. If it wasn't for the fact that she stayed standing, he would have wondered if she'd passed out. Then, with careful movements, she set the scalpel aside and pulled off her gloves. Her sterile apron came next, though with violent, jerky movements. He figured from the way she was shaking she was angry. Subconsciously, he widened his stance, bracing himself for a slap. Instead, she turned to him, still at the hazmat bin.

"I'm sorry you're so upset that your mother wants to meet your girlfriend after _a year_," she said softly. "But I get it. So don't worry, you won't have to worry about that or _my attitude_ any longer." She fought tears she rarely shed. "Goodbye, Detective."

Lanie had already pushed through the morgue doors by the time Javier realized what had happened, but the hallway out of the morgue was long. So when he raced after her, he could still see her retreating form.

"So that's it?" he called. "First sign of trouble and you're just going to walk away?"

"First sign?" Lanie snapped out, spinning on her heel. Her eyes burned and her throat was tight. "The first sign was _months _ago."

"Months?"

Thankfully ire was starting to win over. "Are you seriously that dense? Do you have any idea what it feels like when the man you love doesn't feel the same?"

"Lanie, I told you I love you."

"Quite obviously not like I love you," she replied. "Because actions speak louder than words."

"This whole thing is because I won't take you to see my family?" How the hell had this gotten so out of hand?

Lanie watched him, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. "Your family's important to you. Everyone knows that. But I'm not important enough to meet them. And yes, you love me, but not enough to let me meet the people who molded you into who you are." She shrugged. "What else am I supposed to think?"

"You're supposed to trust that I love you," Javier replied.

"What's that supposed to mean, Javi? Quite obviously there's something wrong. So I'm fixin' it."

"By walkin' away."

"I don't really have another alternative."

Javier ran a hand over his head. "Come to my parents'."

"No," Lanie answered. "I wanted you to _want_ me to meet them. Not out of some twisted sense of obligation or pity. And definitely not to save face and placate me."

He growled again and reached her in ten quick strides. He grasped her biceps, tight enough for Lanie to get the 'don't mess with me' message loud and clear. He tugged her into the break room and locked the door behind them. Then, he started to pace like a caged tiger, while she pressed herself into the wall.

But in the blink of an eye, it all rushed out of him and he collapsed to the couch. God, he was really going to tell her. He dropped his head into his hands. He was going to lose her if he didn't tell her, but he was almost sure he was going to lose her if he did. He'd never taken a chance this big. Ever.

"I come from a neighbourhood that isn't exactly ponies and rainbows," he began. "My parents still live in the same house they moved into when they got married, in the same neighbourhood, with the same families. So they're the same families I grew up with."

Lanie blinked. She wasn't sure she'd ever felt so confused or out of sorts because of a conversation, nor could she seriously believe how much he sounded like he was just vomiting words.

"Some of 'em…. I know about the drugs in Queens because I lived 'em."

Still, Lanie stayed silent. The last thing she wanted to risk was derailing him. Or worse, stalling him all together.

"There was always danger and it was always a chess game just to get around it. Even my brothers ran a few, my sisters dated a few…" He was trying his hardest to make it make sense, but for the life of him, he couldn't seem to find the right words. Lanie had her own rough spots in her childhood and he didn't want to downplay that by whining about his own. And fundamentally, he wasn't a whiner. That was probably the reason it seemed so incredibly difficult to talk about.

He blew out a breath. "Look, I don't want to make this into some sob story. We ran into a lotta crime growin' up. I got lucky, My neighbour is and was Joe Hanson, a cop. His son, Johnny, was my guy. Joe kept me outta trouble and got me into the force." His feet began bouncing as he finally looked up at her. "I haven't looked back. I _go_ back, every week, but I get harassed, every time." He shook his head. "I didn't, I _don't_ want to expose you to that."

He didn't want them to see her.

But the hurt was gone, replaced on her face by a look he couldn't interpret. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Is this where I storm out and tell you I refuse to see you because you've got a bit of a tough past?"

Javier rolled his eyes. "Lanie-"

"Ah," she interrupted, holding up her hand. She forced herself to keep her face blank. "Javier, I love you. A lot. A year is a long time for me and it's a lot of trust for me to put in someone. And it's painfully obvious that the trust isn't reciprocal."

But the shock on his face, like he didn't realize she'd been feeling any of it, almost changed her mind.

"And what's worse, is that you know me. You've met my family, you know how I love." She held his eyes. "You've done it a disservice by doubting, even for a minute, that I can stop loving you – that I _will_ stop loving you – and more importantly, that a past like that would change any of my feelings."

Finally, she walked towards him, sliding her fingers under his chin.

"_Nothing_ about that past means shit to me, except how it makes you the man I'm in love with."

Javier grasped her wrist. "Lain…"

She brushed her lips, as soft as butterflies, over his. "Right now… You don't believe in us completely. So I'm going to walk out of here and we're going to take some time. And when you're ready, it'll either be an apology and a goodbye, or an invitation to your parents'."

Then Lanie did one of the hardest things she'd ever done: she turned her back; she walked away.

And Javier did the hardest thing he'd ever done: he let her.

* * *

To say Javier was beyond pissed when he returned to the precinct would be a gross understatement. Yet, an ambush waited for him, a perfect storm to create the worst day ever.

"Cap wants to see you," Kevin called out when Javier stepped off the elevator.

Javier almost grumbled. "Hanson?"

"Interrogation," Sookhold replied from across the room. "He lawyered up the minute Beckett stepped in. He's been claiming police brutality – loudly, I might add – since."

Javier felt the growl climb his throat. Police brutality. Of course. Sure, maybe he was a little rougher on Johnny than some of the other scum they dealt with, but no worse than the pedophiles and child killers they encountered. He forced himself to stop and carefully file the forensic report from Lanie, hoping the moment would let him calm down. Only then did he head for Montgomery's office. It didn't surprise him to see Beckett there. But whatever argument his boss and his boss' boss were having fell silent when he knocked on the door.

"Detective Esposito."

Javier offered only a curt nod to both of them as he closed the door behind him.

Montgomery, who had been standing, leaning over the desk while arguing with Beckett, settled in his seat and folded his hands on the blotter. "You have a history with Hanson."

"Yes sir."

"A nasty history."

"Well it wasn't all sunshine and flowers." He regretted it the minute it came out of his mouth and grit his teeth.

"Stow the attitude," Montgomery snapped. His face transformed into irritation and annoyance. "Sookhold's been on with Narcotics. They want him. Hanson's screaming something about police brutality. Narco wants him for dealing to underage kids at raves. You're risking two investigations, Detective."

"My problem with Hanson is in the past," Javier said carefully. He wasn't risking anything, damnit. He was doing his job. He felt the irritation and short fuse building in his chest and wondered passively if it showed on his face. To keep himself from losing it, he fixed his eye on a spot over the captain's left shoulder. As a result, he missed the look that passed between Beckett and Montgomery.

Beckett stood. "Esposito."

"Beckett." He knew the tone well so he forced himself to meet her gaze. Hers was direct, hard and void of accusation.

"Can you do the job?"

"You shouldn't have to ask me that."

She nodded, short and quick and he realized she didn't doubt him. He role in this was an act. She'd been defending him. "Good." She turned back to the captain. "If Esposito says there's no problem, I don't see a reason to kick him off the case."

"Beckett."

"Captain."

Javier interrupted the stand off he knew was coming. "I grew up with him okay? Yeah, I know him, but I knew him a decade ago." He forced himself to shove all of the feelings, all of the irritation, tension and yes, heartbreak, into an iron box in his head. "It won't affect the job. It hasn't affected the job."

It was a testament to just how bad his day had been that the pride in Beckett's eyes made him relax. Marginally. He didn't need her approval – and that was the God's honest truth – but since he'd been buffeted on all sides for the last week and a half, it was a welcome relief.

"The minute, _the second_ there's so much as a whiff of you blowing this, you're gone. Understood?" Montgomery snapped. The investigations were important.

Javier jerked his head in agreement, then preceded Beckett out of the office. She managed to grab his arm and stop their progress. Under the hustle and bustle of the precinct, she leaned in.

"You're a good cop, but I'm with Montgomery. You have one chance. Screw it up and I'll have you doing grunt work and dumpster diving for a month. Got it?" When he snapped out a nod she stepped away and offered the bright grin of a happy woman. "You're still in for poker with Castle tonight?"

Javier blinked at the quick change. "Yeah."

"Thank God." She waved her phone. "He's been nagging me about it all day."

Javier felt his chest constrict, partially from envy. "Hey Beckett?" he called as she settled at her desk. "Do me a favour?"

There must have been something in his face because hers turned concerned.

"Make sure you take Lanie out."

"The concern deepened. "Yeah. Sure."

Javier mentally released a breath, glad that Lanie would have a friend. Glad that she wasn't going to be alone. He knew he'd hurt her. And he hated it.

* * *

Kate was exhausted when she stepped off the elevator in SoHo. She'd stopped by the ME's office only to find that Lanie had begged off early. Since it was an extremely rare occurrence, no one had questioned it. But between Esposito's specific request and Lanie's disappearance, it didn't take a genius to figure out there was trouble in paradise. It broke her heart, and put her on edge.

It was sheer reflex that had her quickly shutting the door at Rick's shout. The little grey fur ball that sat stunned from running into the door was also a surprise. Regardless, she reached down to lift and cuddle the kitten against her chest. She looked up to find Rick pouting in the office doorway. She shed her purse and dropped her keys with it, absently locking the door before she made her way towards him.

"Why do we have a kitten?"

He leaned down to accept her kiss. "Because he's really cute?"

"He is that," Kate agreed, still suspicious but willing to wait him out.

"He doesn't let me do that. Cuddle him. He scratches at me."

She leaned her head against his shoulder. "I'm just so loveable."

"You are." He kissed her head then wove his hand through her hair. "And you're exhausted."

"Esposito knows a suspect-"

"It's definitely a murder?"

"No," she admitted, "but the captain wanted to talk about it." She bounced her head against his shoulder, mindful of the kitten she still held. "I hate questioning my team. Period."

"He's okay?" Esposito was one of Rick's rare true friends. He didn't like the idea of Esposito doing his job anything but effectively.

"I don't know," Kate answered. She was worried too and she had been worried in the precinct. It was just easier to show it at home with Rick. "There's something up with him and Lanie."

Never had he felt so disconnected from the precinct. It made sense, he reminded himself, but it still sucked. "Trouble?"

"Maybe." Likely. "He made a note to ask me to take Lanie out while you guys are playing poker."

"And here I was hoping to dress you up in something skimpy and have you play my good luck charm."

She hummed as he started lightly scratching her scalp. "Maybe I'll let you strip me down to something skimpy when I get back."

"Now we're talking." Rick gripped her hair to tilt her head back and devour her. She whimpered and responded with fervor, letting herself fall into the kiss before gently pushing him away.

"We still have to talk about the cat."

"I bought him for you, Kate."

"Oh." He still took her off guard like that.

"The same way I converted the spare bedroom upstairs into your office and the same way we are now overstocked on easy one-person cookbooks." He pressed a kiss to her temple before pillowing her head on his shoulder. "Four months is a long time."

Kate knew. She was trying not to think about it. "I can take care of myself."

"I know, but it makes me feel better to know I've done what I can." Rick hand his free hand down her arm, over her spine. "He doesn't have a name, you know."

She allowed her eyes to flutter closed as she considered. "Lancelot."

"You have something for Arthurian legends you're not telling me about?"

"No," Kate answered with a chuckle. "I figure someone should be my white knight." She let him be indignant while she set the newly named Lancelot on the floor. Then, she pressed her whole body against his. "I need a shower before I go out with Lanie and after the day I've had, I'm willing to make it a shower for two. Coming?"

He grinned. "Like you even have to ask."

* * *

_So, I just realized Kate and Rick are having a lot of fun times that you're not seeing. Huh. Like I said in NE, I won't be writing them, but goodness me! Sometimes, when the characters take on a life of their own, I don't realize they keep repeating it. Of course, there is a sort of "deliberate" aspect to it, you know, 'cause he's leaving and all. Coming back too, but leaving nonetheless. _

_Oh, and I just realized (okay, looked back, double checked, and smacked myself in the head) that you never got the Twitter announcement. I have Twitter. Yes I do. Mostly because it's that time of year again and with the site inevitably (and rightfully so) doing various upgrades, etc, the alerts annually drop. Like, disappear. So I have Twitter. kavileighanna. I'll be posting update notices as they come and maybe other tidbits. Maybe teasers. I don't know yet. I'm still getting used to the idea. _

_I have seven and eight skeletoned out so hopefully they'll be up within the next two weeks. Then I'm away for two weeks and there won't be any updates, but, again, I'm hoping that I can get enough done over those weeks such that when I get back, I'll have plenty to post. Deal? Excellent._

_Enjoy your day!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Around the World Series**

_Part Five_

North American Dream

Chapter 7

. . . . .

When the knock sounded on her apartment door, Lanie wasn't shocked by it, nor by Kate's presence on the other side. She sighed as she leaned against the door. "Figured you'd be home snuggling with your man."

The lack of innuendo had Kate arching an eyebrow. "I got a special request."

"Javi needs to stop freaking worrying." But she stepped back to allow her best friend entrance.

"This about his parents?" Kate inquired, settling the canvas bag she carried on Lanie's low coffee table.

"His ma called," she said, coming around the other side of her couch to drop into the cocoon of blankets she'd created for the self-mandated twenty-four hour wallow period. "Did I tell you that?"

"No." They hadn't had a chance to talk. They hadn't made the time. Now Kate was regretting it. She'd been wrapped up in Rick's departure, so much so that she'd stepped away from her friends.

"Well, she did." One of her couch pillows rested across Lanie's lap, a loose thread between her fingers. "Invited me for dinner this week."

"You going?" Kate headed to the kitchen, pulling down two wine glasses from the cabinet. She'd been here enough time to feel at home.

"Not anymore. He found out today."

"Okay?" She set the glasses on the table and reached into her bag. The wine was already open and merely re-corked. She offered Lanie a bit of a sheepish smile. "Rick had it open and breathing. He understands the importance of friendship." She cocked her head to the side. "Or in the name of getting me out of the loft earlier."

Lanie cracked a smile. "He's made you a meddler."

Kate held out a full glass. "He may have mentioned changing the poker night to drinking in a bar."

Lanie guzzled half the glass of wine in one go and though Kate didn't flinch, she wanted to. It was _really good_ wine. The ME slowed down when the taste finally hit her. "This is really good wine. You're so lucky."

She knew Lanie wasn't just talking about the alcohol. "You know we have our fights."

"Not like this," she replied as Kate curled into the opposite corner of the couch. "Not over the big stuff."

Kate wanted to argue, it was in her personality, but experience told her Lanie wouldn't listen. Quite obviously, she was in the ranting portion of her wallow period. There was a part of Kate that was relieved. Girl talk wasn't exactly her strong suit, at least when it came to relationships.

"This is the big stuff, isn't it?"

"Family?" the detective asked for clarification. "For you, it's a big deal."

"Which means I'm making a big deal of nothing. I overreacted." She sipped her wine. "Except I'm not because it's been _a year_. Is it bad that I want to meet his family? His ma, Mam, sounds pretty formidable."

"She is," Kate said, wincing when she realized her mistake.

"God, even you've met her," Lanie whined.

"I'm his boss," she protested, "She was vetting me. Considering Mam called you, I'd say she wanted to do the same for you."

"And he kyboshed it," Lanie sighed. "He told me it was because he has 'a past'. We all have a dammed past. You and Castle both have a past. Doesn't bother you."

Again, Kate didn't bother to point out how much friction those pasts had created in their history, or how many times Lanie herself had blamed those pasts for driving a wedge between them.

"But it bothers Javi, because he grew up on the mean streets of Queens." Lanie fingered the stem of her wineglass. "I should have seen this coming."

Kate sipped. Kept silent.

"He just brushed me off at first. Vague answers about them, his family. Then he got shot, said he loved me and I figured, hey! He just kept talking. Ignored my hints, gave reasons why it didn't work… I was stupid."

"You're in love." Kate wasn't stupid. Lanie still loved him, regardless of what had happened.

"He told me _everything_ today. I'm doing a freaking autopsy and he's spilling his life, his guts… Kate, I walked out of an autopsy. Passed it to Scott Amoeko."

And Lanie _never _passed off autopsies.

"We didn't break up," the ME whispered. "At least, I don't think we did. I… I gave him an ultimatum. An invitation or a goodbye. And I'm not sure I'll be okay if it's goodbye."

Kate set her wineglass aside, plucking Lanie's from limp fingers. There was a hiccup, then a shudder before Lanie rested her head on Kate's shoulder and began to cry.

* * *

The Old Haunt hadn't changed since Rick bought it. Kate called it his midlife crisis. He called it preserving a legacy.

Currently, Javier Esposito was calling it liquid therapy.

Rick knew the detective had been glad at the switch. Drinking could be done in silence, didn't require socializing, yet could easily make people-lovers happy. And from the resignation in Javier's voice when Rick had called, the detective had anticipated some sort of friendly meddling. True to form, they hadn't said anything beyond the perfunctory greetings when Kevin had arrived. Instead, they'd sat in a row along the bar, sipping from beer bottles.

"Women," Javier said five bottles in but barely tipsy. "Are complicated."

Rick snorted in commiseration. He loved Kate, adored her, worshipped the frigging ground she walked on, but hell, the woman drove him crazy. Kevin continued to sip calmly.

"They want to be cherished, loved, _protected_… _Mierda_. The minute you try and protect them, they start bitching about independence and not needing the protection. _Todo esto es la locura de mierda_."

"Crazy talk," Kevin translated for Rick. Years with Javier had forced Kevin to pick up some of Mam's native language simply for survival.

"Kate does that all the time," Rick agreed. "One second she wants to cuddle close and pretend the world outside doesn't exist, the next, she's Wonder Beckett."

"And what the hell is this obsession with where a guy comes from? Who cares if a guy comes from a family of drug runners or… charity buffs," Javier went on.

"Philanthropists," Rick corrected absently and mostly out of reflex. "Your family runs drugs?" He held up his hand in innocence at Javier's angry glare. They went back to silent drinking until Javier mumbled something about taking a leak. Rick turned to Kevin the minute he was sure the Hispanic was out of earshot. "What the hell is going on?"

Kevin sighed, continuing to stare straight ahead at the bottles lining the wall. "We all have our demons, Castle."

"But drug running?"

The Irish detective eyed him. "How much has Beckett told you?"

"Not much. Vague facts mostly. He knows a suspect?"

"Johnny Hanson. They ran together when they were kids. 'Cept Johnny chose a very different career path."

"Okay," the writer said slowly. "What does that have to do with the good Doctor Parish?" He had his suspicions, but he wanted the confirmation.

"Separate events," Kevin answered, flicking a glance towards the washroom to ensure his partner wasn't on his way back.

"But connected." Rick eyed Kevin's profile. "Kate told me Lanie's chomping at the bit to meet the Espositos. In Queens. The case has connections to Queens, drugs and an old friend. Doesn't take a genius to see they're linked."

Kevin huffed a breath into his bottle. "Look, I don't know what happened today, okay? He's pissed at something, probably Johnny, and depressed about something else."

"Probably Lanie." He paused. "You got a side?"

"An opinion? They're both freaking out over nothing. Yeah, Javi's being stupid about the parents thing, 'cause his family's awesome, but Lanie doesn't know it's all tied together. He's going to be even more on edge, even more protective because he doesn't want her involved in this case."

Rick nodded, considering. "You talk to Jenny about the cases?"

"If she asks," Kevin replied with a shrug. "If I've had a bad day and she can tell. But she's separate from our world."

"So am I."

"Not the same." But he sighed. "Which is your point."

"I'm not trying to make a point. Not really."

"But if Beckett can tell you about it, and I can tell Jenny about it, Esposito should be able to talk to Lanie." Kevin sipped his beer. "He should believe she can handle it."

Rick shrugged. "She can handle herself."

"Our opinions don't matter," Kevin argued. "It's his problem, not ours."

"Even if it means he's throwing away something like we have?"

Kevin wasn't honestly okay with that. He knew he wasn't okay with that. But he also believed that it wasn't his place to meddle. He tipped his bottle to his lips. "His mistake to make."

Rick didn't stop himself from huffing in irritation. Well wasn't that just depressing?

* * *

Rebecca Hall, much like Mark, made her living by observing. It was less so now that she'd been assigned to the crime beat, but her initial home had been society. Regardless, she kept those instincts sharp by using them to look into suspicious behaviour and little hints cops had a bad habit of dropping during press conferences. However, while naked in bed with her boyfriend, those instincts usually stayed dormant and unnecessary. Instead, they were humming. Something was off.

"Mark?"

"Hmm?"

He was faking his drowsiness. Tension radiated out of his body. "Something's wrong."

He was facing her in less time than it took to blink. "What is it?" he asked, his hands racing over her flesh, concerned, obviously, for her well-being. "Where does it hurt?"

She slapped at his hands, charmed and irritated at the same time. "I'm fine, you letch." She caught his hands and he let her hold them. "There's something wrong with you."

There was a flash of shock, like he constantly forgot she could be that perceptive, before his cop face slammed in place. "Nothing's wrong."

Rebecca sighed and released his wrists. She climbed out of bed.

"Bec, where are you going?"

"I have an early deadline." It wasn't a total lie, just a real exaggeration of the truth.

"You do not," he argued. He was beside her in an instant, quickly and deftly removing the clothing she'd collected from her grasp. He dropped them on the bed, then snagged her by the waist. "Becca, talk to me."

Anger sent a mighty flash over her face. She'd never been good at holding it back. "Oh no. Not happening, Buster."

Mark's eyebrow rose.

"You don't get to pull the compassionate 'let me help' tone. Because here's the deal: I thought this relationship was a two-way thing. But when I ask you to spill, to _share_, you balk. Or hide. Whatever it is. Hiding."

"I'm not hiding, Becca."

"No? Then what the hell, Mark?"

"I've never talked about my problems, okay?" No one had ever demanded it of him. Except Rebecca. "It's not a guy thing."

"Not a…" Tears welled in her eyes, shocking them both. "Take it back."

"What?"

"Take it back," she demanded again as memories swamped her. Memories she'd tried to every piece of her soul, to forget. They swamped her at the worst possible moments.

"Becca?" Mark inquired, one of the hands on her waist rising to cup her cheek. He'd never seen her like this. She was perpetually calm. This was almost panic. "Becca, come back."

She wasn't sure she could. She could hear the crying, the disbelieving screams. She could feel worn leather beneath her fingertips and the grief that swept through her. Someone was talking to her, telling her something she couldn't make out through the haze of grief.

Mark was honestly afraid. He'd never seen anything like it. It wasn't a true panic attack, but her eyes were glazed over, her breathing ragged. He was all but shaking her, trying to focus on him, to fight whatever had pulled her under. "Becca! Rebecca!"

The sobs had turned to whimpers, but her nails still dug angrily into his biceps. He pulled her close. "Shh. You're okay. It's okay."

Rebecca came back to herself slowly, shaking as he guided her to the bed. She curled away from him instinctively but he kept a solid hold on her. Rebecca curled tighter.

What the hell had set her off?

So he kept close, near, murmuring nothings. He waited until she calmed, stopped shuddering, trying to puzzle together what had set her off.

"It's not a guy thing."

She stiffened. He knew he'd found it.

"Talking about things isn't a guy thing." He sighed, stroking her arm. That was what had done it.

"It's what my dad always said."

And it had broken her. Wounded her. Taken something from her. For now, he'd let it go, both because he was as terrified to see her go through it again as she'd been during the attack. "We've got nothing on our case."

Rebecca stayed silent.

"Two unconnected victims. Drugs. No one's talking. Beckett _won't let it go_."

"A grudge?"

"Beckett doesn't hold grudges." Mark sighed. "She fights for victims, Bec, but this… This is ridiculous, even for her." He slid his hand over her hip.

"Connection?" Rebecca asked, finally turning over.

"Queens, New York."

She snorted, moving a hand to his chest. "Queens doesn't talk to cops."

"Esposito and Ryan talked to one of our vic's mothers. Gave them a name. We arrested him."

"But it's not him."

He stroked a hand over her cheek. "He lawyered up. We can't get anything out of him."

Rebecca hummed. "Drugs or victims?"

"The connection? We're still not sure."

"What's the drug mix?" She was shifting gears, trying to put things together.

Mark groaned. "Seriously?"

"I have connections you don't," she pointed out. She was getting into it now, her mind already spinning with ideas. "And even if I don't have the connections, I'm not a cop. They're more likely to talk to me."

"Yeah, if you want to get yourself killed." Mark rubbed his forehead. "Cocaine killed one of them before the cars hit. But there was alcohol, ecstasy, amphetamines and a sedative in his system."

"Coke and a sedative. That's a party." She was pushing herself up, pushing clothes out of the way until she found his shirt. She slid it on with a grin and headed out of his bedroom.

He followed, grabbing his boxers and awkwardly hopping into them on the way. "Becca-"

"Shh!" She was at her bag. She'd come to his place straight from work, not that she was ever far from it. But the time he'd pulled on his boxers she already had her computer open.

"The sedative elongates the effect of the cocaine," she murmured to herself. "So, maybe it's cut that way." Her eyes cleared as she glanced up at him, hovering over her shoulder. "What's the concentration?"

"Of?"

"Cocaine. The cocaine and sedative mix."

"You think he's cooking his own?"

Rebecca typed and clicked before presenting him with an article. "I think he's doing more than just cooking his own, I think he's using it to try and establish himself."

* * *

_I'm still playing with Rebecca's storyline, and Mark's for that matter, but I'm hoping to be able to dig deeper into both with this, as much as the Esposito-Lanie and Castle-Beckett stuff. We'll see. But the goal is to get the whole teaser in this chapter also dealt with. And I've got to put together Mark's background. _

_And this is shorter than most, which is making me a bit itchy. It's only 2500 words. But any more than this and it'll just get all out of hand. And it's not time to let it all get out of hand just yet! _

_Patience, and opinions are both fantastic and, more importantly appreciated. Thanks!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Around the World Series**

_Part Five_

North American Dream

Chapter 7

. . . . .

Javier looked at the front door of his childhood home in a mixture of nervousness and dread. Mam was going to throttle him. It was that simple. He hadn't brought Lanie – hell, he wasn't even sure they were together – and that alone would put his mother off. Mam wanted to meet Lanie, and her call to the ME proved that. And Javier had mucked that up big time. He was in for hell.

When his mother pulled open the door she took one look at him, alone, awkward, hands in his pockets and her eyes narrowed. "What did you do?"

"Don't know what you're talking about," he replied as she stepped back and he stepped in.

Mam watched him, her arms folded over her chest. "_Pendejo_," she spat.

When he stepped through the doorway to the living room, his entire family seemed right pissed. And that included his brothers, whom he did kind of anticipate understanding his predicament.

"Nathaniel!" Mam called to her husband. "_Que me explique c__ó__mo se plante__ó__ como un idiota?_"

"Mam," Javier began, allowing the exhaustion to surface. "You didn't raise an idiot."

"No? Then _d__ó__nde est__á__ tu novia?_"

He sighed. "I'm not sure she is _mi novia_, Mam."

"No? Then what did you do?"

Javier couldn't help glancing to his siblings but none of them seemed particularly willing to lend him any sort of hand. Even Anna just shrugged as she juggled her four-year-old niece and he's been relying on her to smooth things over.

"Doesn't matter," he finally said, heading over to take his niece from his sister. The toddler laughed and squealed his names and Javier smiled. She made things seem so easy. Of course, at four, her life probably wasn't all that complicated.

"You screwed up." Mari held up the hand not entwined with her husband's in innocence. "It always happens, Javi."

"And it's usually you."

Despite his niece hanging off his shoulder, he tweaked Anna's side for her comment. Then he sobered, rocking Michelle. "She gave me an ultimatum."

"Shit or get off the pot?" Marco winked as Mam whacked him over the back of the head. "Mam!"

"Language," she scolded in return.

"Kind of," Javier allowed. He looked around. This was his family and they were watching him, but how much did he want to tell them? How much could he tell them without sounding like a pissy pansy? "Told her 'bout the neighbourhood, 'bout wanting to keep her safe and away from the poison here." He smiled self-deprecatingly. "She told me to shove it."

"Girl with a backbone," Mari said. "I like her already."

"Yeah, well," Javier replied. "She's not letting me back into her life until I bring her here."

"Then why is she not here, hm?" Mam inquired.

"'Melia." It was the first time Pop had spoken through the conversation. "Don't push the boy."

"Push the boy?" Mam shot back, letting out a string of vicious Spanish as she headed for the kitchen. The family stayed quiet while she slammed around, exchanging looks. Then Anna reached over, taking the toddler from his grasp.

"You'd better go deal with her."

"It might hurt less if you just get it over with," Nick agreed.

Javier snorted. "Might hurt _you_ less."

"Go placate your mother," Pop ordered. "I'm not cleaning up your mess."

Javier sighed, but did as he was told, heading into the kitchen where Mam was slamming drawers and cabinet doors. "Mam."

"You want me to believe you take care of yourself," she began and he leaned against the nearby counter to wait her out.

"You think you are a big policeman, that you know everything is right and then you go do something like this!" Her gaze turned imploring. "Why did you do it?"

"What do you want me to say, Mam?" he asked. "I can give you a million reasons."

"Then you start," she ordered. "You tell me I didn't raise a stupid son. Prove it."

"I didn't want her here," he told her. "I didn't want her in this neighbourhood, Mam. I still get harassed. I still get the evil eye from the dealers on the corner. The hooker that lives across the street closes her curtains. Shit, even the homeless slink back into the alleys."

"What does that do with Lanie?"

"I want her to feel welcome. I want her to feel like this is some place she can go and she's not going to feel comfortable with that stuff."

"Then I never meet her."

Javier growled to himself, until Mam waved a threatening spoon his way. "It's not about you. It's not about Pop. It's not about Nick or Mari or Marco; Anna or Alex."

"But she is not here."

"Why can no one understand!"

Mam sighed, finally taking pity on her son. "Because she is very meaningful to you. Because we have never heard a girl so meaningful."

"So you want to… vet her?" He shook his head trying to find a better word. English was Mam's second language. "You want to make sure she's good enough?"

"Well, of course. That too." Mam stepped over, patting his cheek like she had when he was a child. "She is meaningful to you, my Javi. That is enough."

"You think she'll be around for a while."

"Oh, I know she will," Mam replied with a little smile.

"We're just dating. Or… we were."

"I spoke to her. She did not seem stupid."

"No," he agreed with a smile. Lanie definitely was not stupid. "But between you and me? I might have been."

He still wasn't settled or sure on that one. He still believed that Lanie, his Lanie, didn't need to be exposed to the kind of neighbourhood his parents loved. He loved it too, but his work meant that the seedier sides were more obvious to him. Those things were the problem. Those things were the reason he wasn't sure he wanted to expose her to the neighbourhood.

"So you fix it."

"I wish it was that easy. But Lanie's stubborn." And, maybe, right.

Mam waved the spoon dismissively. "She is smart. She will see."

"Damnit, let me through!"

Javier barely had enough time to put register what was going on before he was being hauled up by his shirt collar. Still, he met Joe's eyes solemnly and calmly.

"You son of a bitch."

Javier barely blinked. Mam was yelling and swearing.

"You son of a bitch!" Joe was shaking him, but Javier barely blinked.

Then, Marco and Nick were on him, pulling Joe backwards by his arms. He released Javier's shirt and allowed the two men to all but tumble him to the couch.

"What the hell has gotten into you?" Nick roared.

"Your ungrateful brat of a brother!" Joe yelled back. "That bastard arrested my son!"

The house went dead silent and all eyes turned to Javier.

"Is it true?" his mother asked.

"Of course it's true," Javier replied. "But I can't talk about an ongoing investigation, Mam. You know that."

"Drugs! God damned drugs! As if my son would do anything like that!"

Javier knew Joe knew. He would have seen it long ago in his son. But he couldn't begrudge the man wanting to pretend it wasn't. Joe's eyes were wild, disbelieving, pained. Johnny had been in and out of jail, Javier knew that from the man's record, but he wouldn't have been surprised to find Joe's heart breaking with each arrest. A cop never wanted a criminal son.

"Joe," Pop called from the edge of the Esposito crowd. "You brought Javi up in the force. You taught him all he knows."

"And I taught him to stand up for himself," Joe snapped.

Javier braced himself, widening his stance. He had no doubt he could take Joe if he had to, but he most certainly didn't want to. "Johnny's got a history, Joe. A bad one."

"He got out of that. He promised his ma."

"And he failed on that promise," Javier replied smoothly. "We found the drugs in his apartment, Joe. Me and my partner."

"Prove it."

"I can," Javier said. "I don't arrest without proof, Joe. You taught me that. And I'm workin' with good cops."

The way Joe relaxed, deflated proved he knew it too. He'd been following Javier's career, following his protégée's work and it was good solid work. But for God's sake this was _his son_! "You know Johnny."

"So do you," Javier replied. "You know what he's done. You know this is fair."

"That's my boy."

"Come on Joe," Pop said. "We'll get you a drink."

Javier relaxed, shaking his head at the questions on his family's face. "Can't talk about an ongoing case."

Mari looked at him. "You had to arrest Johnny? Your job sucks."

Javier sighed because sometimes, it really did.

* * *

_You have got to be kidding me_.

That was Kate's only thought when the pounding started just before three. She was asleep for Pete's sake, asleep and cozy against Rick and couldn't she get _one night_? She sighed when the pounding stopped. They'd gone. Good. But then it started again.

"Mmm Kate."

She sighed when Rick pulled her tighter, nuzzling into her neck. He did it when he was half asleep and looking to cuddle. She didn't mind, usually.

"Why is there pounding?"

"Someone's at the door," she murmured. Her eyebrow arched when the pounding started up again, louder and harder. "Someone violent."

"S'okay. You carry a gun."

And that was that. She was going to be getting up because, as Rick said, she carried a gun. And if she didn't get up, the damned knocking was going to wake Alexis. The poor girl didn't deserve that.

Assuming, she realized as she kicked the covers off, Alexis wasn't awake already.

Since she awoke fairly clear-headed, she didn't stumble into Rick's office. She padded in, quickly unlocking the safe so she could withdraw her gun. Then, and only then, did she head for the door.

"Are you _kidding _me?" Kate threw the locks with irritation and ripped the door open to level a homicidal glare at Mark and Rebecca. "Do you have _any_ idea what time it is for normal people?"

"Didn't take you for a normal person, Kate," Rebecca said with a wide smile. As a reporter, the woman changed her sleep schedule as needed. Much like the detectives. "And don't shoot the messenger. I come bearing information."

"Does that mean I can kill you?" Kate asked Mark.

"Rather you didn't," came a murmur, followed by a jaw-cracking yawn. Rick had joined the party. "Don't want to clean blood out of the floor."

"I love that blood in the floor is more important than bailing me out of jail for murder."

He blinked at her. Yeah, so not awake. "I figured that was a given."

Her heart went gooey. Then she turned back to her three am visitors and the irritation and annoyance came back with a vengeance. "Is there a particular reason you are here before the sun's even up? We called it early so we could get some _sleep_."

"Hell, Beckett, I don't even know," Mark offered. "She showed up at my place first."

He looked as tired as she did and he was definitely wearing jogging shorts. Probably whatever was on the floor that he could pull on over his boxers. August had, so far, not been any cooler than July. "How important is this?"

"Oh, you really want to see this," Rebecca promised. "Sex, scandal, and more importantly, Johnny Hanson and Kelvin Reinhart."

That intrigued her but quick. She stepped back. "I want clothes and coffee." She turned to Rick. "Think you can help."

"With both, but we'll be gone awhile if I'm helping with the former."

Though she wasn't one for displays of affection, they were at home. She leaned up to kiss him on her way to the bedroom. "Coffee, Rick."

"You owe me."

She barked out a laugh.

By the time she returned, Rebecca and Mark were settled at the breakfast bar. Rick had provided a muffin for Rebecca as they chattered about… Donna Vincent? She shook her head. Rick could find a topic to talk about with anyone. Just last week he'd gotten into a heated debate with Brady the doorman about whether dry heat or humid heat was worse. She leaned against him when she came around the bar, because yes, they were in their own home and she wasn't going to hold to society rules. He left in just over a week.

He wrapped his arm around her and kissed her head without breaking stride in the conversation. Kate caught Mark watching and raised an eyebrow. He shook his head, but Kate wondered if she caught longing in his eyes. Despite being a part of their team for almost six months, she and Mark weren't partners like Ryan and Esposito were. Or even the way she and Rick had been before he'd stepped away. He stepped away to fill her coffee cup and place two more, plus the carafe on the bar.

Kate waited until she'd taken her first sip before finally speaking. "Okay, you woke me up at three in the morning for what?"

"This." Rebecca lifted and dropped the envelope on the marble counter again. "I did some leg work and _a lot _of digging since Mark and I talked about the case a couple of weeks ago. It was not easy let me tell you and I expect a hell of a thank you present for this."

Kate just rolled her eyes. She wasn't giving Rebecca a thing until she presented her with something she could really use.

"Now, you might need a pen and paper, though a whiteboard would work. Because what I'm about to show you is both insider information and is likely to get incredibly complicated." She looked to all three faces. "Ready?"

"Should we call Ryan and Esposito?" Mark inquired.

"Not yet," Kate shook her head, taking another sip of glorious caffeine. "Let's see what we've got and what we can use."

And Rebecca started outlining quite an epic story.

It started with Rico Quinto, a low-level drug dealer from twenty years before. He rose to power quickly, gathering followers and loyalties along the way. Today, Rebecca said, he was _the guy_ in the Queens drug trade. Kate and Mark both knew of Rico. He was notorious within the ranks of the NYPD.

But it seemed as if there was a new player in the game. Rico dealt manly in heroin and cocaine, but it wasn't, Rebecca's contacts said, the cocaine that had killed Kelvin Reinhart. In fact, from the people Rebecca had talked to – and both Kate and Mark had given her disapproving looks; Rick had looked intrigued and excited about the prospect – the cocaine that had killed Reinhart, cut with what was a benzodiazepine and ecstasy, was new on the scene. And so far, a hit.

"Lanie officially connected those seven cases," Kate murmured.

"Does this count as a serial killer?" Rick asked, tilting his head curiously. "Cause that would be _awesome_."

"How are you so excited right now?" Kate murmured, looking at all of the information spread out on the counter. There was a lot of it and it was kind of scary.

"I haven't even hit the jackpot," Rebecca said, reaching into the envelope. "This is Tyrone Olong. He's the second in command to Rico. And I went to high school with him."

Kate shot an alarmed look to Mark. He shook his head. "I've learned not to ask."

Rebecca beamed. "Tyrone keeps his ear to the ground for me. I helped him graduate."

"Is he a dealer?"

The reporter snorted. "Runner as a part time position, but I promised you wouldn't arrest him if he gave me this information." She shot Kate a rueful look. "Anyway, Tyrone knows Johnny Hanson. He seems to be more than under the impression that Johnny's the one dealing it. Ravers love it because it keeps-"

"The high running with the benzo," Kate finished. "So Johnny's a rising star."

"That's the idea I got," Rebecca agreed. "Rico's getting pissed, but he's also been getting a bit ruthless and reckless and he's losing followers. Politics of drug dealing I guess. Anyway, Rico's losing followers and losing them quickly. Tyrone says Rico doesn't know he's losing followers. Personally, I find that very hard to believe because Rico, fingers in pies."

Mark shook his head. "How do you _find_ this?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know," she said, leaning over to kiss his cheek without thought. It was habit, it was normal and it made him feel a little bit better about finding the relationship Castle and Kate obviously had.

"But! Rico does know that someone's starting to bleed into his territories. I don't know what that means, to be honest because, if the runners know Johnny's the one running the rival dealership, I don't know how Rico does but-" She offered them a shrug. "This is the information I'm getting." She glanced around. "Can you lose it?"

Kate looked at the pages set out in front of her, leaning against Rick, her mug in the other hand. "I think we can find something to work with." In fact, they could find more than something to work with. They could probably leverage against Rico for this – at the very least and Kate didn't want to take it that far – and she'd hated Johnny Hanson the minute she stepped into the interrogation room with him and his slimy lawyer.

Rick cracked another yawn. He'd stayed away from the coffee because, despite his long-term affair with the coffee at the Twelfth, the caffeine still made him jumpy. Unlike Kate.

She rubbed her hand on his back. "Okay. We'll handle this in the morning."

Mark nodded, squeezing Rebecca's leg when she went to open her mouth. She wanted to do it _now_ because she was excited and, as she'd admitted when she'd come pounding on his door half an hour before they'd made it to Kate and Rick's loft, running on six cups of reporter-strength coffee. However, it was still early and he figured if he could get Rebecca out now, he could potentially get an extra hour out of Kate in the morning. The woman was in before the freaking sun and Mark wasn't used to running on that kind of enthusiasm. Still, he always felt bad when he came in and Kate had been at the whiteboard for three hours. "Morning it is."

Rebecca pouted at him, but he studiously ignored it as he tugged her towards the door. He sighed as he looked down at her, leaning in to whisper. "It's almost four. Let them sleep."

She continued to pout, but didn't argue. She did offer Kate an apologetic smile. "Sorry 'bout waking you up."

"For that? I should be thanking you. It gives us a few more avenues to investigate in the morning," Kate replied. She already had a few ideas percolating, but, for now, she was flat out refusing to let them surface. She was also battling the guilt of not just heading into the station to puzzle this all out. She wasn't letting anyone down, she reminded herself. It wasn't like there was someone out there following their every move. If what Rebecca had said was right, Kelvin Reinhart was barely missed by his associates. They wouldn't care how his investigation was going.

"Well, I'm glad." Then Rebecca offered a bright smile. "Night!"

Kate closed and locked the door, leaning her forehead against it with a sigh. Rick stepped up behind her, leaning into her bowed back until his cheek rested against the back of her hair.

"She's hyperactive," he murmured.

She snorted. "Takes one to know one."

"Exactly," he said with a grin. Then he was tugging her backwards. "Come on. I was having a phenomenal dream of you curled up next to me while we slept and I want to cement the feeling before I go away."

"God, Rick, don't remind me."

"Right. Forgot. Cuddle to make up for it?"

She laughed and followed him back to bed.

* * *

Lanie was lounging – she refused to call it wallowing – in her apartment when there was a gentle knock on her door. It was a bit of a shock. She wasn't expecting company and she definitely wasn't anticipating the kind of company that was standing awkwardly on the other side.

Javier.

And he looked more than a little worse for wear.

"Jesus," she said when she managed to fumble door open. "Jesus Christ, what happened?"

Javier winced as her hand brushed his cheek. Black eye, probably. He was going to look a little worse for wear when he walked into the precinct in the morning. Beckett was probably going to have his hide. "You should see the other guy."

She wanted to ask him who the other guy was but settled herself with shooting him a reproachful look. Still she tugged on his wrist, admitting him to her apartment. Like she could leave him out in the hall looking like that. "You should be in a hospital."

"No," he replied, shaking his head following her pull to her small kitchen. He'd had an utterly terrible night. First, there had been the thankfully non-violent altercation with Joe. Then Johnny had managed to get the jump on him outside of his apartment when he'd arrived home. Despite how bad of an idea it was to come to her when their relationship was so uncertain, he didn't have anywhere else he wanted to go. He didn't have anyone else he wanted to be with now that shit had hit the fan. "I'll be fine."

"Like hell," she growled, spinning to him. There was anger there, but it was founded on the concern and almost abject fear he could see in her eyes. Lanie Parish often looked cold and aloof, but he knew she was anything but. His Lanie was passionate and protective. "If you're going to be dumb enough to run out and get your head bashed in, you're going to a hospital."

He plopped down in one of her kitchen chairs. "I'm fine, Cariño. It's just a few scratches."

She mumbled something obscene, then sucked in a breath. "Fine." She stomped over to the freezer, withdrawing an ice pack. "Here." She hissed when she saw the scratches and blood on the back of his hands. "You're damned lucky I have a First Aid Kit."

"Lain, I told you-"

"You hit his mouth?" she interrupted, eyebrow raised. He nodded with a roll of his own eyes. _Of course_ he'd hit Johnny in the mouth.

"Do you _know_ how many different kinds of bacteria are in the human mouth?" she scolded even as she turned. "Keep the ice on your eye. I'm cleaning those cuts."

He opened his mouth to object, then promptly closed it when she glared at him.

"And you're going to sit there and let me bandage those cuts or so help me God you're going to a hospital."

It was enough to shut Javier up. He hissed again as he pressed the ice to his eye, swinging his jaw back and forth. It still hurt, and he had a growing headache that promised throbbing pain. He was ultimately grateful when Lanie returned, not only with the First Aid Kit, but with Aspirin too. He dry swallowed the pills she shook out in her palm, then watched her warily as she prepared to tend to his cuts.

"I've had worse," he said, watching her small but _very_ capable hands soak the piece of gauze in antiseptic. "You don't have to do this."

"Shut up," she shot back and for the first time he realized how tight her voice was. His eyes widened and he was thankful that hers were too focused on what she was doing to see it. This was a lot of emotion packed into her small body and Javier had no doubt as to where it would explode. He sat quietly and patiently as she bandaged his hand, then threw the ice aside and pulled her into his lap. She clung to him, but said nothing and she didn't cry. She just shook. Violently.

He shouldn't have done it, pulling her close like that, but the way his stomach settled and his heart slowed made him almost uncaring about it.

"You _idiot_," she said breathlessly. "You stupid, stupid man."

"I'm fine," he repeated. His hand skimmed down her back. "But _Cari_, this is the kind of thing I'm talkin' 'bout."

The frustration flooded through her and she rolled her eyes as she pushed herself up. Letting him in was a stupid idea and she'd known that from the beginning. But how was she supposed to turn away an injured person, let alone an injured person that she loved so much? Her conscience wouldn't have let her leave him outside like that but… Why the hell had he gone and shoved his foot in his mouth?

"Lain-"

"Shut up," she told him heading for the kitchen. She felt like a lovesick fool for thinking he'd come to her because he was hurt and because he needed her. She yanked open the freezer, reaching inside for a package of frozen corn. A dishtowel came off her oven door with a snap and she wrapped it around the vegetables as she headed back to the couch. "Put it on your eye for all the good it'll do. You already look like a raccoon."

"Will you listen?"

"No," she answered honestly. She wasn't going to change her mind. There was nothing he could say that would change her outlook on their situation. She still thought he was being an idiot. She still felt unwanted. Used. It sucked.

Javier blew out a breath. "'Least you're honest."

She shrugged, curling up in her armchair against the wall as she watched him. She couldn't sit close to him again. It was torture and it already hurt that he was willing to rehash the fight now.

"I want you safe," he said quietly, and she tried not to be amused by the contract of his serious sincerity against the cartoon cow on her dishtowel against his eye.

"You don't make that determination," she replied. The driving need to get him out of her apartment hit her full force, fast and strong. She got up, trying not to fidget as she headed for the door. "If you're going to pick a fight with me over this, if you're not going to change your mind, then say goodbye and let me go."

There was panic in his gaze as she pulled open the door. He didn't want to go and definitely not on that note. "Lanie."

"It's not good enough," she told him opening the door. "I've been taking care of myself for well over thirty years, Javier Esposito, and I'll be damned if I let you question that while you're lovin' me." Her eyes were hard and sharp. "Keep that on until you get home. If you start getting the symptoms of a concussion, go to the hospital. Otherwise, please get Ryan or Kate to return the corn and the towel in the morning."

His heart clenched painfully. Nothing was okay, but he wasn't ready to back down. Not yet. He stopped in the doorway, corn still on his eye.

"I love you, Lanie."

She shook her head. "I love a piece of you." Because she couldn't love all of him until she knew all of him. And she wanted to. God did she want to.

Javier couldn't stop himself from ghosting his hand down her arm. Then, as much as it hurt, once again, he respected her wishes and walked away. Lanie watched him step onto the elevator before closing the door. Only then did she allow herself to collapse back against it and sink to the floor as she started to cry.

Maybe it was time to let go of him. Maybe it was time to stop wishing things would change. Maybe it was time to stop loving him. Even Lanie knew it wasn't that simple. But she really didn't want to hurt anymore. Maybe she'd start tomorrow.

_Yeah_, Lanie snorted to herself as she forced herself out of the foyer and into her bed. _And maybe I'll become President of the United States_.

But as she tumbled into bed, she wondered if loving him less would make this easier. It was a useless thought though. She couldn't love him any less. Apparently he couldn't love her anymore. It was a foreboding thought.

And it broke her heart.

* * *

_There have been a number of you who have expressed a stronger desire for the Kate/Castle relationship than the ones I'm exploring and trust me, I'm getting there. The problem is that I have to handle the Esposito-Lanie stuff first because Rick is still in NYC. The minute he's gone, we're stepping up the Kate/Castle drama, I promise. So please be patient with me, we will get there. Actually, next chapter we'll lay some ground work for it. I think. I've been playing around with these chapters. Nothing's where I first thought it would be and I'm already at chapter 12 or 13 in my skeleton._

_More importantly, I would like to remind you I have no history of drug use, so I actually have no idea if cocaine can be cut with ecstasy and/or benzodiazepines and if it's all the same to you guys, I'm not going to go find a coke addict to ask the questions. So, to that end, it's as close as I'm willing to get it without sacrificing my sanity or my safety. I'm addicted to research and authenticity for this stuff, but not that addicted. _

_On an unrelated note, that middle scene a) killed me, but actually b) turned out to be my favourite part of this chapter. It was fun!_


	9. Chapter 9

**Around the World Series**

_Part Five_

North American Dream

Chapter 9

. . . . .

Kevin was beyond angry when he returned to the bullpen the next afternoon. He'd already gotten the story of Javier's altercation with Johnny from the detective that morning, mostly because he hadn't given his partner a choice. Javier wanted him to return a package of frozen corn and a tea towel to Lanie, so Kevin had forced him to explain what had gone now. He'd gotten the end of the story from the ME when he'd handed over the items. Now he was angry.

Lanie had been added to their little Twelfth precinct family by nature of picking up the title of Kate's best friend. She'd solidified it when she and Javier had started dating the August before. Kevin liked her. He looked at her like he looked at his sisters. And, as his sisters could attest to, he didn't react well when they were upset, and it was worse when they were hurt.

Javier looked up at his partner's angry approach.

"You. Break room. Now."

Really, Javier wouldn't have minded a bullpen altercation, but certainly not with his Irish partner. He also knew what it was about. There was a piece of him already regretting asking Kevin instead of Beckett to do the errand. So, he followed his partner, unsurprised to find the room clear. Even the captain kept a wide berth when Kevin was on a tirade.

"Are you _insane_?" Kevin asked. "Are you sadistic? What were you _thinking_?"

Javier, wisely, stayed silent.

"Did you think she would just forgive you because you came insured? Then you picked a fight with her?"

She won't listen," Javier snapped back. "She doesn't want to listen and she doesn't want to _see_. This isn't her happy little family. It's scum and I won't expose her to that. So don't ask me if I'm cruel and insane because she's the one that won't listen to damn reason!"

Kevin took three angry steps away, then paced back. "You don't get to take this out on me," he said, voice vibrating in anger. "You made your decisions. You _screwed up_ and it's shoved a stick up your ass. We've been walking on eggshells for weeks now. We're stressed enough." He paced away again and took a deep breath. When he turned back, Javier was glaring mutinously.

"You let Lanie walk away over nothing," the blue-eyed man said slowly, his voice shaking. "You decided you would rather ruin the best relationship you've ever had by letting this family thing get out of hand. Then, okay, you got kicked around by Hanson and his dad gave you a hell of a shiver but _for God's sake_! You went to Lanie you… You're torturing her."

Javier continued to glare, but his insides were churning. He hadn't been able to think of anywhere else to go, but he'd known it was a bad idea. He couldn't let her go, but he wouldn't let her closer either.

"Shit or get off the pot," Kevin growled, unknowingly sharing the sentiment with the Esposito family. "But make a decision because if you just jerk her around…" He shook his head. "She deserves better."

"Do you think I don't know that?" Javier exploded. "You think I don't _see_ that?"

"I think you don't realize how good you've got it," Kevin replied. "I don't think you realize that _she chose you_. She's hot, she's fun and she's got a big heart and all of that _picked you_. She's a fantastic judge of character and she saw something in you before she knew what happened when you were young. That says something. That says a lot of somethings. So stop being a dumbass."

Javier sneered, but didn't stop Kevin from tearing out. He dropped to a break room chair, dropping his head in his hands. He felt like everything was spinning out of control. Everything was such a mess. He felt someone slide into the seat across from him and knew it was Beckett. Of course it would be Beckett.

"You come to yell at me, too?"

"No," she replied. "Figure Ryan kicked you around enough."

He looked up at her exhausted face. "You think I screwed up?"

Beckett shrugged. "Maybe."

"She's your best friend, Beckett, You have an opinion."

"My opinion doesn't matter to you."

"Then why are you here?"

"Checking on you," she admitted. Javier knew she looked at him like a brother so he didn't really take offense. It chafed him, but, surprisingly, didn't piss him off. "Pretty sure it's the first time Ryan's torn a strip off your hide."

About his private life, hell yeah. It took a lot to piss Kevin off enough to explode. Javier was the short fuse. "So what?"

"So I figured I'd step in."

"I've got a mam."

She arched an eyebrow. "I'm not sure if I'm amused, flattered or insulted."

Javier paused, then sighed. "I'm a mess, Beckett."

"No kidding."

He looked up at her with surprising vulnerability. "What the hell happened?"

She paused, watching him carefully. Then she spoke. "You ran."

He blew out a heavy breath. Sometimes he forgot Beckett could be quite that blunt. "You think Lanie could handle it?"

"I don't think that's my decision. But… so you have an almost criminal past." She shrugged. "You're a cop now."

"Your past makes you who you are," he quoted.

"Lanie knows that. You know she knows that."

"She won't forgive me."

Beckett chuckled. "Idiot. She already has. The question is whether or not she can trust you again."

* * *

Lanie jumped at the throat that cleared behind her. The pen slid across the page and she sighed. She'd been doing so well too, so focused. She'd been powering through the administrative paperwork that came with performing autopsies on what felt like too many dead people. Then she turned and froze. "Detective."

He looked haggard, but healed. Physically anyway. But he certainly didn't carry himself that way. His eyes watched hers with a plea. "Lanie… Please don't."

Don't push him away. Don't distance herself. She settled her hands carefully in her lap and kept her face blank. He came to her, so she would wait him out. Her hopes, however, weren't high. It had been a long time.

Javier paced towards her, then away again. He did it a few more times, then spun to her. "You're not asking what's wrong."

She breathed in, slow and deep. She's given up hope of anything other than a goodbye. "I don't know what you want me to say."

He didn't know either. "Come with me to my parents'."

The shock straightened her spine. There was hope, but it was tentative. "What?"

He came around until he leaned against the autopsy table across from her desk. "You gave me an ultimatum a couple of weeks ago."

Oh she remembered. The pain was still fresh.

"_Cari_… I can't say goodbye."

Lanie jolted. Her heart leapt. "Can't?"

"Won't. Both." He ran a hand over his head. "It's been hell."

She let out a choked laugh.

"Lain, I want you to meet my family."

"Why?" She didn't want to believe it. It was too difficult to believe. A turn around after so long…

Javier could see it. Combined with Beckett's words he knew he only had one chance. He only had one choice. "Because I love you. Because you're important to me."

Lanie's breath caught.

"You're strong and I've forgotten that. I've forgotten that you've got spark and spunk and that you've been holding your own for a very long time." He sighed. "I screwed up."

Her spine released. "Oh."

"Look you… You probably don't trust… Just come, Lain. I love you. Come meet the family. Then…" Then she could decide if she still wanted him.

God she wanted to and she definitely wasn't strong enough to say 'no'. She loved him. "Okay."

"What? He was shocked, pleased. "What?"

"Okay. I'll come. I'll meet your parents." And she felt her stomach warm at the pleasure that swept over his face.

"Okay." He smiled, feeling better than he had in weeks. "Okay."

And even Lanie could tell he had a new spring in his step as he left.

* * *

"I hate airports."

Rick looked over at Kate in amusement, leaning down to press a quick kiss to the slight pout of her lower lip. They were finally at JFK, Rick getting ready to check his luggage.

She sighed. "Yeah. Okay. I don't."

"I don't like this either," he reminded her, pressing his nose to her temple.

"So don't go?"

He arched an eyebrow. "So come with me?"

"You make a good point."

He couldn't really cancel. She couldn't really take four months off. As it was they'd already talked about taking a weekend in October and of course there was Thanksgiving in November… It still felt surreal and from the look on his face, still left an uncomfortable stone in his stomach. She had a very similar nauseous feeling.

God, they were codependent!

It was an odd realization to come to considering she didn't really feel like her independence was threatened. She just… needed him. Sometimes, it was just that simple. It didn't make his departure any easier.

"Be right back." He kissed her temple and headed to the counter.

Kate found herself crossing her arms over her chest. She shouldn't have come. She should have said her goodbyes at home. She would have regretted it. But there was a serious knot in her stomach. She trusted him. She loved him, but it bothered her that she'd be without him for months. She fiddled with the diamond on her finger until he returned to her.

"Kate don't." There was an element of begging in his voice. He looked so unhappy.

She grasped the hand he held out for her, probably tighter than she really had to. She had to get a grip on this or she was going to be a blubbering mess. Kate Beckett didn't do blubbering messes. Quite obviously her turmoil was feeding his. "God, we're pathetic."

"I prefer to think of it as hopelessly in love," he replied, tugging her close. "I don't like this either."

"I don't like how much I don't like this," she retorted, irritation loud in her voice and tears blurring her vision. "I can survive without you. I really can."

"And… I can keep myself out of trouble." Then he chuckled. "Okay, maybe we are pathetic."

"I like it better when we were pretending we weren't pathetic," she said on a huffed breath.

"We'll be fine. That's why I haven't been in the precinct all summer, remember?" He brushed her bangs back. "You're supposed to be the strong one."

They walked, slowly, towards the entrance to the gates and security.

"I'm going to miss coming home to you," she told him quietly.

"I'm going to miss waiting for you," he replied. "I'm going to miss you." Rick tugged her closer.

"I'm going to miss you too." She already did.

He wrapped his arms around her and she moved into him willingly. "Say the word and we'll have you on a plane before you can blink. That's a promise, Kate."

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep the tears from trickling down her face. Whether she took advantage of the promise or not mattered less thank knowing it was a possibility.

Rick held her tighter for a moment. "This is me."

They were standing just in front of the security lines now. It shouldn't be this hard, she decided. It would be a month before she saw him next. Easily.

"I'll call when I land," he promised.

"In LA."

"In LA." The heavy gush of air he released could have been a sob. "Promise me you won't read the tabloids."

"No."

"I don't want to fight over lies."

"You worry way too much."

His laugh was low and a bit dark. Warm. "You're possessive, Detective Beckett."

"I've been told you're quite a catch," she murmured, playing with the collar of the t-shirt he wore. "You know I trust you, right?"

"I love you. I adore you."

"You don't have to reassure me, Rick," she said on a laugh. Her emotions were all over the place, but she wasn't sure she cared right now. She held up her left hand. "I agreed to _marry_ you."

"One and done."

The words were murmured against her mouth before he claimed her lips in a hot kiss. Kate responded in kind, ignoring the bustling JFK airport. People didn't matter right now. They did. And she wanted to remember every touch of his hand. As good as he was with words, Kate always felt more reassured by the way his hands touched her, the things he didn't have to say when he looked at her.

"Okay," he whispered when he pulled away. "We're not going to draw this out."

She drew her lower lip into her mouth.

Rick cupped her face in his hands. "Tell me not to go," he said again.

"Don't go." Her hands came up to grip his wrists. "Ask me to go with you."

"Come with me?" The desperation in his tone was better than 'I miss you'.

"One month."

"I love you." His hands fell from her face.

"I love you too," she whispered.

It was a scene from every chick flick as she watched him step through the first class line for security. She dug her nails into her palms when he looked over at his shoulder at her. Then, when he disappeared behind the wall, she turned to stride quickly out of the airport. She wouldn't lose it in public. If she was going to cry pathetically because she missed a man who had been out of her sight less than a minute, she was going to do it in the privacy of her own home.

She'd worry about being Detective Beckett later.

For now, she'd be perfectly happy being Kate.

* * *

_2300 and not all of it is anywhere close to my best work. It's been a touch and go couple of weeks when it comes to this, so I'm going to be asking for A LOT of patience from you guys. This has been grating on me like no body's business and I do want to give you guys the best I can. Right now, I have no idea where my best is. It's in hiding or something. Plus, I have a whole checklist of thesis and LSAT related things to handle in the next couple of days, let alone weeks. RL will take priority._

_That being said, if it's inching on three weeks and there's nothing, give me a polite and gentle nudge. I'm honestly hoping Monday will give me something to work with, but it's equally possible that I'll have to stop watching until this one's finished, just so I don't get mixed up. It's a scary prospect. _

_Thanks for patience and even more thanks for reviews!_


	10. Chapter 10

**Around the World Series**

_Part Five_

North American Dream

Chapter 10

. . . . .

The two weeks following Rick's departure were a surprising blur for Kate as she tried to balance work with taking care of herself. It wasn't that she couldn't feed herself, or crumble exhausted into bed, but it was shocking to realize none of that seemed like a chore when Rick was home. It was lonely to eat by herself, and their bed seemed ridiculously large without him in it, cuddling her close. Talking, Skyping, texting, e-mailing…. None of it came close to the real thing and she missed him.

The fact that the Knockwood-Reinhart case was going nowhere didn't help matters. Kate hated letting cases go cold, regardless of whether or not 'let' was the right verb. Even with the deal Mark and Ryan had worked out with Narcotics hadn't opened any new avenues of investigation on the drug side, or the homicide, and Kate had continued to resist labeling it an accident. As if that wasn't enough, Rebecca's information, while solid and gold, hadn't provided them with a way to move forward. The type of people Reinhart had been involved with didn't socialize with cops and no one, least of all Mark, felt comfortable even subtly suggesting she go talk to them again.

"We're going about this wrong," she murmured to no one in particular half way through the third week of Rick's tour.

Mark looked up from the file he was perusing, unsurprised to find Kate's eyes had glazed over. She did that when she was trying to puzzle something out that wasn't on the murderboard. And, since murder didn't stop merely because they had a case, it wasn't Knockwood and Reinhart on the board, but another murder. The Knockwood-Reinhart case had been removed weeks ago. "Beckett?"

Her eyes focused. "Let's take Knockwood out of the equation." They'd tried it before, but she had an idea.

Mark leaned back. "She's got no history of drug use, no link to Reinhart, Hanson or any of their associates."

"Exactly," Kate agreed. "What are we left with?"

"A druggie and a runner," Ryan piped up. No one was shocked he'd been listening in. This case, the personal nature of some of the nooks and crannies, were bothering them all. "You're thinking the crash isn't the homicide, the overdose is." Quite obviously, it had gone through Ryan's head too.

"They went through Reinhart's car," Esposito argued, absently flipping through another case file. "And Hanson's apartment turned up nothing with Reinhart on it."

Mark reached for the phone. "So they can take it apart." His eyes were gleaming. The lead, tenuous or not, had sparked hope in all of them.

"He could have taken the needle with him," Ryan offered.

"A smart guy would," Kate agreed, but she was with Mark. It never hurt to check and while CSU had gone over the car, they'd assumed they'd gotten everything. But the crash had left nooks and crannies they didn't usually check, no matter how thorough the tech was.

Esposito snorted. "Hanson's not that smart." The man had mellowed since reissuing his invite to Lanie for dinner and while they hadn't managed to fix their schedules to allow it, they were moving slowly back to where they'd been. He wasn't entirely forgiven, and he knew that as much as Kate, but he had Lanie in his arms and in his bed again. It was an upside for all of them.

"Could've been this time," Ryan shot back as Mark connected with CSU.

Kate chewed her lip. There was still something eating at her about Rebecca's information and as Mark barked out his request and met her eyes, she knew he was feeling it too.

"What was it Becca was telling us about Rico's business?" he asked, flipping through his notes while hanging up his phone. "Rico's been losing customers to a new drug on the party scene and he's none too happy." He glanced up at Kate. "Someone's moving in on his territory."

"Hanson doesn't have the smarts to create a new drug," Ryan argued, having met and interrogated the man. "No equipment in his apartment either. Andy traces can easily be explained by his own nasty habit."

"Doesn't mean he can't do it," Esposito pointed out slowly, despite his earlier comment on Hanson's intelligence. He wasn't above admitted to some satisfaction at the idea either. It would be heartbreaking for Joe and his wife, but that didn't stop Esposito from believing the best place for Johnny Hanson was behind bars. "He'd have the connections."

"What if he's the new dealer?" Mark asked. "Becca said the territory was getting smaller and no one knew anything. Inside's the best place to come from if you're going to break out."

"His customers were leaving," Kate murmured in remembrance. "Okay, so it's all about the drugs."

It was where they'd been, but not where they could go. Other cases had taken over, taken precedence before the leads went cold and now… Well now they had a hot one in front of them.

"Hanson's developing a coke-ecstasy-benzo mix and introduces it to his customers and his alone without mentioning anything to his boss, Rico," Ryan began. "Extends the high. Any user who gives a crap is going to be all for it. Drug does it all _and_ you feel it longer."

"He's creating his customer base from his own and snubbing Rico on the back end," Esposito agreed. "So, Reinhart catches on?"

"Or Hanson goes to him," Mark answered. "His business is growing, he needs his own underlings. The two are buddies, whatever that means in the drug-running industry."

"New clients, more business, more money," Kate nodded. "So maybe he gets cold feet? Maybe he hears Rico's on to Hanson. Maybe he wants out. Regardless of why, he confronts Hanson."

"Hanson's got nothing to lose if he kills the guy," Ryan pointed out. "He's got seven kids dead with the same drug, cops'll just chalk it up to an OD on something else. No reason to single out his particular mixture."

"And track marks hide an injection site," Mark agreed. "We have to put Hanson in that car."

Kate nodded her agreement. "We need to light a fire under Sookhold's request to CSU."

"I'm on it," Esposito said. Hillenbrande had been getting closer and closer to Lanie, as if the young tech had realized there was trouble in paradise. Esposito wasn't above some petty harassment to mark his territory.

"Oh come on, man!" Think first!" Ryan whined, even as he grabbed his coat. "I know you enjoy intimidating Hillenbrande but do you really have to drag me with you?"

Kate smiled slightly as the two bickered on their way out. She was glad Ryan had volunteered. Kate wouldn't put it past Esposito to do more than bully CSU about their cases.

"And us?"

Kate glanced at Mark. "Let's talk to Rebecca," she decided. She wanted to know what else the reporter could give them, and now that they had a place to start, they knew where to focus their attention. "Then we're going to go see if we can find someone who had a nasty grudge or needs the leg up."

Mark hid a smile. He was starting to feel much more like Kate's partner now that Rick was on the other side of the country. Not that he wished that to be a permanent thing, but he was glad her original partner wasn't close. It gave them a chance to find their groove independent of whatever reliance Kate had on Rick's theories. Kate was treating him as her partner, and Rick as her fiancée.

Maybe this team would work out for him after all.

* * *

Kate was actually home at a half decent time that night. Since CSU hadn't been able to give them anything, Kate hadn't really felt comfortable confronting a bunch of high-level Queens drug dealers and had called it a night. They could pick up fresh in the morning, on all of their cases. As often as she fought for the victims, the one thing she'd really learned in the last few years was when it was time to step back, regroup and hit it on a new day.

She sighed as she sank into the couch and Lancelot pounced on the cushion. The cat had been a savior. He cuddled constantly and though he wasn't as good as Rick, he made an okay substitute. She felt less alone when she could feel the warmth of his fuzzy body. She smiled as she ran a hand over his head and down his back. She was going to spoil him and she knew it. He was already sleeping on Rick's pillow.

When her phone rang obnoxiously, she couldn't help the smile that spread over her face. Rick had done that too, recorded a special ringtone of him at his most annoying so that she would definitely hear it. And more importantly, so neither of them felt like he was so far away. He'd been so giddy about it that he'd managed to convince her to do the same.

"Hey you."

"Hey back," he said and she could almost picture him leaning back.

"Everything okay?"

"We made it up to Seattle without a hitch," he responded. "But I'm exhausted."

"And to think, you've got three and a half more months of this."

"I thought we weren't talking about that," he said and the petulance and pout was loud.

Kate couldn't blame him. He knew she didn't like the thought any more than he did. She was just doing a better job hiding exactly how much it sucked. Then again, her poker face had always been better. "Meet anyone interesting?"

"No, but I found a very interesting pair of lace panties in my car at the airport," he said, laughter in his voice. It was a constant source of amusement for him, the way women still threw themselves at him. Then again, most of them had only seen Rick with Kate in pictures and Kate doubted any of them were really lovey-dovey enough to spell out just how serious their commitment was. Engagements could be broken, even marriages could end in divorce and sometimes, Kate knew, that was enough hope for some.

"Let me guess. Red lace."

"Pink. First clue as to how I knew you didn't orchestrate them to be there."

Kate smiled. Her favourite shade of pink was red. "I like to wear my underwear," she said.

"Not all the time."

She laughed and it felt good. When she calmed and her breath steadied, she sucked in a deep breath. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too," he promised and she knew he was glad she was the first to say it. She was trying, more and more, to ensure that she shared her feelings as often and as vocally as he did. It was all the more important now that he was across the country. "Have you picked out the invitations?"

Shit. They'd talked about it last night. He'd been asking her that question for weeks, even before he'd left. "I just got home. I'll do it tonight." She didn't want to do it without him, though.

"Whatever you want to do, Kate." There was something there, just barely and akin to annoyance, but she shrugged it off. She'd get to the invitations tonight. "Whichever ones you want to pick."

She blew out a breath. "I will. I'll send you a picture."

"I trust you."

There was an uncomfortable churning of her stomach. She didn't want him to trust her, she wanted him to want to know. But she also didn't want to fight with him when he was across the country. It was unfair to both of them. "We got a break in the Knockwood case."

They fell into a familiar back and forth filled with affection and banter as they talked over the case, then segued to how the hotel bed was lumpy and the pillows were soft. They talked about Lancelot's eating habits, his conversation with Alexis that day and Kate's evening plans. He had a release party, but she was going to maybe put on a movie, get into her pajamas and, apparently, pick wedding invitations.

When they finally hung up, Kate reached for Lancelot. She always felt more alone when they said 'goodbye'. Lancelot didn't seem to mind. He purred as he rubbed his head against her chin and Kate scratched his sides.

"I miss your Dad," she whispered to the cat.

She'd already forgotten about the underlying annoyance, about the vague uncomfortable colour of his words on the wedding, but she hadn't forgotten her promise and she pulled Lancelot out, dug around for some leftovers in the fridge and hit the kitchen table.

She'd barely finished her 'dinner' when her phone rang. CSU had something. Something big. She left the invitation samples on the kitchen table and, despite the nagging feeling that it was wrong to race out, she didn't like the lingering feeling of loneliness that lingered as she glanced at the invitations.

Tomorrow, she told herself. Tomorrow they'd find time to Skype and they'd pick the invitations together. Tonight, she had a murder to solve.

* * *

_**Miscellaneous Ranting**__: yes, I'm aware pink is not probably technically a shade of red, more like the other way around, but we're going to play it this way 'cause I liked it and I'm particularly stubborn today._

_Also, I wrote forgotten as forgotted at least twice. D and N are no where near each other on the keyboard really. Needless to say errors are mine and a result of a brain'o'mush. If you find a brain lying around, it might be mine. Should be wearing ID. And walking. _

_**Less Miscellaneous Ranting**__: AKA the update statement. My life is in a bit of shambles right now. My thesis has to be ready for February if I want to graduate in June and I barely have a research question. It's a long convoluted story that I won't go into because, well, it's a long story. But that means that I'm not writing near as much as I used to. Nor near as much as I want to. My thesis has to come first and I've been burying myself in sources for too long to count. I doubt the next update for this will even be in this month, especially since the writing time I do have I've been transferring to planning the Christmas fic (better to start now when I'm allowing myself breaks so I have a general idea of where I'm going) and now Memoir, which hasn't been updated in something like 4 months. _

_At least, that's what I think. Sometimes, I write more when I'm doing school work because my brain's already scrambling around. All I can promise is that I'll do my best to make sure I don't forget this and don't shove it aside. It's just going to be a ridiculously slow process until I feel like I'm legitimately on track for my thesis. _

_Thank you for your patience._

_Please review?_


	11. Chapter 11

**Around the World Series**

_Part Five_

North American Dream

Chapter 11

_*Note: This is terribly edited. And by terribly, I mean not at all. For which I apologize. Mostly._

. . . . .

Despite the miracle CSU had managed to dig out of the wreckage of the mangled car, by Sunday they still hadn't been able to track Hanson down. He'd gone under, from what Rebecca had managed to discover and it left the detectives without much to do. They'd staked out old places Hanson was likely to frequent, but it hadn't amounted to much of anything. It was the reason, despite a full caseload, that Javier was driving into Queens, Lanie in the passenger's seat.

And she was nervous.

It was, to him, a phenomenal thing to see. She was rubbing her hands on her thighs and twisting her fingers together. He was, admittedly, amused. This was what she'd wanted. Hell, she'd already talked to his mother and yet, she was so obviously nervous.

"You're laughin' at me," she accused.

Javier reached over, prying her hands apart until he could weave his fingers through hers. "Maybe. They don't bite, _Cari_."

"Easy for you to say," she shot back.

"It's no different than you tossin' me in the deep end on Memorial Day."

"Seriously?" she asked incredulously. In her mind, her family was the most open-minded, welcoming group of people in the entirety of the world.

"Your brother tried to break my fingers," he replied, squeezing hers gently. "Four of your cousins threatened to help make me disappear." He grinned whens he snorted, apparently set on believing it was impossible.

"You didn't have to impress my Ma. She heard 'cop' and 'Spanish' and you were in."

"Puerto Rican," he groused good-naturedly. "Your father made it clear he had friends that could end me. Good speech too, I should have taken notes."

"Da?" she questioned, firmly ignoring the implication of Javier's one-day hoped-for fatherhood. "Da wouldn't hurt a fly."

"Neither would Mam." Much. She'd love Lanie. Javier already knew that. She'd love that Lanie loved him.

"Even Kate's a little afraid of her," Lanie argued.

Javier sighed, releasing her hand as he turned into his parents' street and parallel parked at the curb. "Lanie, everything's going to be fine."

She snorted as she climbed out, waiting for him to come around the car and taking the hand he extended. They climbed the steps and rang the bell. Then, because her hand was clammy, he tugged her against him and settled his mouth on hers. He felt her fall into the kiss, sliding her free hand up his chest.

"If you wanted a moment, Javi, you probably shouldn't have knocked on the door."

Lanie squeaked in embarrassment as she yanked herself away. She glared as Javier sent his sister a bland smile. "Hola, Squirt."

Anna's face fell into a predictable pout as she stepped back to allow them entry. "No need to be mean to impress your _chica_. If she's been with you this long and still puts up with you, she's not going anywhere."

"She's right," Lanie agreed with a sweet smile, but they both knew how close they'd both come to walking away.

Javier grimaced. Anna was teasing but… it could have happened. And he was beating himself up about it enough. "_Cari_, meet Julianna. Anna, Lanie."

Anna grinned as she flipped the locks on the door. "I am _so_ happy to finally meet you!"

"You have no idea," Lanie replied with a warm smile. Anna was Javier's favourite. She'd gathered that much long ago.

Javier kissed his sister's cheek and reached for the coat Lanie was sliding off. "Everyone's here?"

"Just waiting on you," Anna agreed. She glanced at Lanie. "We all wanted to be here."

She was making it out to be a big milestone. It wasn't, per se, because he'd brought girlfriends home before. But they had never been quite like Lanie.

"Mam?"

"In the kitchen," Anna replied with an affectionate roll of her eyes.

He grinned. There was nothing Mam loved more than cooking huge meals for her brood, but it drove his kitchen-challenged sister more than a little batty. He hung up his coat with Lanie's then, because he could, leaned in to kiss hid girlfriend. "Tell them we'll be in, in a minute."

Anna rolled her eyes, but headed for the living room. Javier tugged Lanie a few steps down the hall. He paused at a doorway, looking in as he tugged Lanie closer. It was the second doorway to the kitchen where, true to Anna's word, Mam was muttering over pots on the stove. There was affection and amusement in the smile that blossomed over his face.

"Hola, Mam," he called, slipping his arm around Lanie.

"Javi!" Mam exclaimed bustling over. "And you are Lanie."

Lanie virtually beamed as Mam cupped her hands around the pathologists cheeks. "Hello, Mam."

"Hola." Mam smiled, taking her in. "You are small."

Lanie blinked. She'd never been described quite like that before.

Javier chuckled. "It's not a critique, _Cari_," he offered, used to his mother's less-than-politically correct adjectives.

"But you are not _muy delgada. _Barbie."

"She keeps feeding Ryan, trying to fatten him up. Beckett too, if she can make it," he explained. Then, to his mother, "Si, Mam, she's not a stick." He kissed Lanie's temple. "I like her that way."

Lanie relaxed against his side.

"A woman needs curves," Mam stated decisively. "These sticks, they don't keep men."

Now calmer, Lanie chuckled.

Mam took in her son, his girlfriend and told him in rapid Spanish, "_Se ven felices_."

Javier glanced down at Lanie, infinitely glad he'd chosen to bring her home rather than let her go. She did make him happy. He loved her. He was starting not just to see it, but to really, truly and honestly believe it. "Si."

Mam's smile brightened. "Go. Show her around."

Javier smiled and kissed his mother's cheek, then he was propelling her down the hall, back into the living room. The chatter died away rather quickly for his family once they spotted them both. "This,' he said, squeezing Lanie's hand. "Is Lanie."

The chatter came back with a vengeance then as everyone stood and bustled over to try and get Lanie's attention. He saw her eyes widen, a little overwhelmed – and filed it away since when her family celebrated or got together there were at least three times as many – before he had to let her go or lose his arm. He wandered over to the big armchair his Pop occupied and snatched his niece from her grandfather's lap. Michelle giggled loudly as Javier turned her upside down quickly before righting her again.

"So that's your Lanie," Pop said as Michelle snuggled into his shoulder. She'd always been a clingy toddler.

"Yeah," Javier agreed. His. His Lanie.

"She keep you in line?" Pop asked.

"She does."

"She like family?"

"Loves family." Only Pop could ask him that question and not get a green tinge out of him.

"Strong mind? Warm heart?"

Javier nodded his agreement to both.

Pop looked up at him. "You love her?"

Javier paused. When Pop asked the question it always meant more. "Yeah Pop. I love her."

They fell silent for a moment watching as the family absorbed Lanie. The pathologist looked over, amused panic in her eyes and Javier smiled.

"She fits," Pop said, seeing the look exchanged between them.

He saw awareness float through Lanie's eyes as she took in Javier with Michelle on his shoulder. Yeah, she fit. And more than that, she belonged in this chaos. He could see it, years down the line, with maybe a few of their-

Whoa.

Pop chuckled beside him. "True love's like that," he said with a knowing glint in his eyes. "For your mother, it was slow and gradual." He shifted, settling back into the chair further.

"And you?" It was the question Pop had been fishing for.

Pop grinned, wide and child-like. "Like a slap to the side of the head."

_Yeah_, Javier thought to himself, _I know the feeling._

* * *

Kate huffed out a sigh as she took in the island around her. It was an absolute mess, a mix of wedding invitations, honeymoon brochures and case files amongst to-do lists and take-out menus. Yes, she'd resorted to take out, because it was just irritating to cook for one and despite the knowledge that she'd be catching up with him in New Orleans in just under two weeks, she abhorred the thought of feeling the loneliness more acutely that she did already.

It was tough to plan a wedding alone. Tough and irritating and heart-breaking, no matter how many times she tried to tell herself that he was only trying to think of her. She wanted them to plan their wedding _together_. Yes, she understood that he was on the road, that he was partying late because it was what was called for, then on the go all day with signings and appearances, but she wanted some help. She was tired too. She was overworked too. She was up late and up early more days than she'd like to count.

But she'd never told him. She wouldn't. She couldn't. She hated fighting with him when they were together in New York, let alone when they were in separate cities, separate _states_. It was unfair to fight over distance and she didn't want to drive a wedge like that between them. They'd work it out, she continued to tell herself, they always did. And this time, Kate knew they had to.

This wasn't just _a_ wedding. Kate Beckett didn't do things in half-measures and that included relationships. It included believing in things like what she did, one-and-done, him, _them_. Of course, it didn't make her any happier about the fact that she was planning the biggest event of her life since her graduation from the Academy by herself.

God, she wanted Rick there.

She sighed and dropped her head into her hands. Two weeks, for Pete's sake. How long had she gone on without him to begin with? Could she even remember her life when he wasn't in it? Huh. Late nights and take out. Looked a lot like now, just with crappier furnishings and sheets that were not near as soft on her skin.

With another sigh she reached across the island for her phone, hitting her speed dial and waiting.

"Hey." God, he sounded as exhausted as she felt.

She forcibly swallowed all of the wedding questions she wanted to ask, all of the nuptial things she wanted to talk about. "I need a minute."

He laughed. "It's about all I've got." His sigh came through the phone loud and clear. "I wish I had more."

And here she'd been the one looking for affirmation. He sounded melancholy. "Less than two weeks."

"I know," he replied, his voice warming. "A whole weekend, just you and me, no interruptions."

None. She was going to leave her phone and files at home. They'd talk about the wedding, they'd make plans and they'd… Well, needless to say she was going to go digging in her drawers for a good 'thank God I'm finally seeing you' present. "I know."

He cleared his throat. "What did you need?"

"Just…" She chewed her lip. "Just… a minute."

"Next time," he began. "Next time, I'm not going for four months. Not straight. A week. Tops."

"Yeah," she agreed.

"Okay. I have to go. You know, sign things."

This hadn't been the phone call she'd wanted. She'd wanted light, upbeat, happy Rick to make her feel better about the distance between them. "No skin, Castle."

He laughed, kind of, and Kate knew it was because her voice was sharp and bossy. She'd done it deliberately. "No skin. Just books." He sighed. "I love you."

They had too many of these conversations. They needed the upcoming weekend. Badly. "I love you too," she replied.

She felt worse, rather than better, when she clicked off and ran her hand through her hair. Never again. No more of these trips. She looked up as it rang and jumped for it when Sookhold's name showed up on the screen.

"Beckett."

"Body."

Kate blew out a breath. Never had a body come at a better time. She could throw herself into work. That would get her mind off of the clutter that the island seemed to represent in her life. "On my way." She was already reaching for her keys. "Hey, Sookhold?"

"Yeah?"

Lanie had been talking about dinner with Esposito's family for weeks. She wasn't going to ruin it. "Don't call the guys, okay?"

"Sure thing, Beckett."

She did stop and pause at the door, looking back at the chaos at the life, berating herself for how dependent she felt. She was _independent_, dammit! She locked the door and headed for the elevator.

But independence didn't mean she couldn't miss him. With all of her heart. Or be mad at him for never having time to help her plan. For not wanting to help. And everything.

God, it sucked.

* * *

When Javier had climbed back in the car and pulled away from the curb, he glanced over at Lanie sitting next to them. "So?"

Lanie sighed in contented happiness. She was pleasantly full, happy, having laughed for most of the night, and currently on her way home with the man she loved. "You have a beautiful family."

He burst out laughing. "That's somethin' an old lady says when a couple's got a young kid."

"Don't give me that," she said with an amused snort. "I saw the look on your face when Michelle climbed into my lap." And it was most definitely her exhaustion that made her say, "You want kids, Javi?"

His heart warmed as his stomach churned. "Maybe."

"Mmm… Someday."

He could see it. It was odd, considering how close he'd come to walking away. An almost-break-up had definitely taught him how much she meant to him. He wanted her around, with him, and now he was picturing the future? He could see it too, which was the part that was almost more terrifying. More family dinners, kids, a house, not just a dingy tiny apartment…

How effing surreal.

"Mam likes me."

"I told you she would." He glanced over. Her eyes were closed. She was fading, not that it shocked him. She'd done the same thing after Memorial Day, like being around so many people for long spans of time just exhausted her.

"I'm glad. I love you."

He reached over, squeezed her hand. "I love you, too."

"'M just gonna have a nap," she murmured out. "Wake me when we get home."

He jolted again. Why, tonight of all nights, did he seem so hyper-aware of the future? Of _their _future.

He wanted her in his life. That much was a given, obvious, written on his sleeve, if the weeks without her were any indication. And he had experienced quite a visceral reaction when he'd caught Lanie on the floor with Michelle, the toddler nattering away. Michelle was a social baby, but it said just as much about Lanie that she seemed perfectly at home talking about Barbie and monkey bars. He could see her with kids.

He could see them with kids. Which spoke volumes in itself, good ones and bad ones. It was terrifying to be looking over at a diminutive pathologist knowing there was a 'forever' in him. He never would have expected it. Then again, he hadn't really expected Lanie either, had he? She'd blind-sided him. One second they were colleagues then… then he was bringing her coffee, asking her to dinner, daring her to put her toes in a Central Park fountain and climb a tree.

And now… Now he could see her with two-point-three kids. He could see her, toddler on her hip as she saw two older kids off to school. He could see Thanksgiving, Christmas, summers on the beach. With Lanie Parish.

Today, tomorrow, forever… He wanted it all.

The thought settled in his mind and in his heart. He glanced over at her, sleeping peacefully, eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks. He loved her. He wanted forever with her.

But he'd take it slow.

Because until that night, forever had barely been on his radar.

* * *

_It's kind of entertaining to see your reactions to the last chapter. Mostly because there was always going to be a weekend where Rick and Kate saw each other. I'm even trying to figure out if I can finagle a Thanksgiving celebration before it all goes to hell in a handbasket. So we're going to have at least two Rick'n'Kate weekends where there will be fluffy stuff. _

_Sidenote: I apologize for repetition in the middle. Kind of. Building seems to require repetition. So it's there 'cause I want it to be so I can build what I need to build.  
_

_Speaking of. So, I've got them in New Orleans. Problem is this: I've never been. __**So if you have been to New Orleans I'd love to hear your take on things to see or do**__. I mean, yeah, I can have them holed up in their hotel room for somewhere between 48 and 72 hours (or whatever I end up deciding) but that just seems repetitive, especially since I wouldn't be writing half of those scenes. I think the date'll be mid-October. _

_And this back to back? So, funny story. I'm writing away at this, or plugging away at it, or whatever we want to call it today, and I said to myself, you know Self, your readers are going to think you're going against your word by posting this within days of the other. Such is life, I'm afraid. I was internet-less at the cottage for CDN Thanksgiving (Happy Thanksgiving fellow Canadians!) and got a chunk of this done instead of my thesis (or in between, whatever) then realized I had to do massive amounts of Googling and refused to do those massive amounts of Googling when I got home, so you guys got a chapter instead! Perfect storm, 'cause I go back on Tuesday and then it's back to the books. Like I said though, as soon as I have a better thesis idea nailed down, I'll be able to do a better job at getting some sort of routine down. _

_Deal? Well, review and we'll see if we've had a good talk. Or a good chapter. Or both. Both would be nice…_


	12. Chapter 12

**Around the World Series**

_Part Five_

North American Dream

Chapter 12

_*Mistakes are mine. All mine! Kthxbye._

. . . . .

The end of October buffeted New York with gusts of wind, torrential rain and even threatened snow, but as Kate stepped off the plan in New Orleans, all of that misery dissolved. After two months, she finally had four days off. Four days she was spending in New Orleans.

Four days with Rick.

It was heaven and paradise and she was staunchly refusing to acknowledge how ridiculously needy and dependent that made her sound. But she missed him. She had missed him. It was a testament to the changes they'd made in each other that her life didn't seem the same without him in it.

She was so excited, she hadn't even bothered to promise herself dignity and poise when she saw him. She didn't care if they looked like the stereotypical reuniting lovers. They _were_.

Kate could feel her breath speed up as she neared baggage. Any minute now. They hadn't talked about where they were meeting, but she knew Rick. There was absolutely no way he would have the patience to wait in the hotel for her. God, at this point, she'd probably even forgive him if he decided to make a spectacle of their reunion.

He wasn't there when her eyes did a cursory search of the claim area. She stomped hard on the disappointment and picked a strategic shot by the chute. She allowed her mind to drift as she waited, checked her phone…

She was thinking about texting Rick when she felt lips settling against the spot on her neck that made her knees weak. Strong hands caught her waist as her eyes slipped closed.

"God, you're a sight for sore eyes," Rick whispered when his lips reached her ear.

Kate spun and sealed her mouth to his. Rick squeezed her hips as he responded in kind, pulling her against him. Kate felt her body give into the feel of him, finally, after two months.

"You feel so good," she finally whispered when they pulled away and he wrapped her up against his chest.

"I missed you," he replied. "Every day."

She chuckled, but didn't scold him for his romantic tendencies. "I missed you, too."

"Yeah?" he murmured against her hair. He was fishing.

"You know I did," she replied, pulling back to kiss him again. "Of course I did."

He couldn't get enough of her. He wanted her. Desperately. Now. "Which one's yours?"

Kate laughed against his mouth, very aware of what was going on. She wasn't immune to the need either. "Anxious?"

"You have no idea," he breathed against her lips. "Kate…"

"Soon," she murmured back, pressing herself against him. "Suitcase, then hotel, Castle."

His eyes darkened and he took one last gentle nip at her ear. He felt her shiver against him before releasing her. He'd already considered this particular day a write-off. "Your suitcase, Detective."

"Right," she breathed out on a sigh, her blood humming in her ears. "Suitcase. The red ones."

"Not the Hawaiian?" Rick inquired with a pout. He loved them because they were so easy to spot on the baggage claim. But they were unprofessional and Paula had vetoed anything but plain, black luggage.

"No," she answered with an indulgent smile. He'd all but begged her to bring them, just so he could swap out his things. "Red."

He released a put-upon sigh. "You are entirely too practical."

"You love me," she replied easily, leaning up to kiss the underside of his jaw.

"Dearly," he promised, wrapping an arm around her to tug her in front of him. He wrapped both arms around her then as they watched the conveyor start up.

She hummed softly. "Are you going to be my big, strong stud and pull it off for me?"

"Only if it won't threaten your coveted independence." If she was going to needle him, he was going to push back. Especially here and now, when he had her in his arms and everything felt normal.

"Nope," she replied, tracing her fingers along his forearms. "And I may have brought you a present."

"Present?"

She knew by the tone of his voice his entire face had illuminated. She knew, regardless of what the present was, he was excited. She smirked. "Well, maybe it's more an 'us' present." Then, while he absorbed that, pressing his hand harder against her stomach, she pointed out her luggage. "That one."

He nudged her aside. When the suitcase was in his grasp – he'd had to release her to do it – he turned to her with glowing, sparkling, hot blue eyes. "Can I open it?"

Her smirk turned to a sultry smile. "Of course."

He went for the suitcase and she reached out for his wrist, leaning into his ear. "Who said it was in the suitcase?"

His eyes raked over her as his mouth curved dangerously. Then he had her hand in his, and all but yanked a laughing Kate out of the airport.

* * *

They ordered room service for dinner. It was, to Kate, rather decadent. Sure, she spent a little outside her regular price range, but her job made it difficult to travel further than the Hamptons. And when she did get the time off, all she, Rick and Alexis wanted to do was go to the Hamptons. Sometimes it was the house in Boston, but either way, neither provided a room service menu.

Nevertheless, she sat in bed, one of Rick's t-shirts draped tantalizingly over her thin frame as she sat cross-legged on the bed. Rick sat across from her, his own dinner set aside. She placed her dishes on his with a contented sigh. They hadn't left the hotel all day. They'd taken the time to get reacquainted with each other, body, mind and soul. In between rounds, they'd talked, bantered, argued, teased like they'd been together the whole month. She'd be ready for the next round in a minute, but first, she had one thing she definitely wanted to get done.

"I brought some of the wedding things."

His eyes lit up and she smiled. She'd been silly to think he didn't want to help her. Of course he did. He was Rick Castle. Party planning was his specialty.

She headed to her carry-on, bringing it back and setting it on the end of the bed. He watched as she shuffled through it until she withdrew a plastic envelope. Organized.

"What's on the menu?"

She arched an eyebrow.

"No pun intended," he said with a smile.

"Honestly? I still haven't picked place cards," she answered, climbing back up after setting her bag on the floor. Her laptop was in that bag. The last thing she wanted was for it to tumble to the ground.

"Invitations?"

She wrinkled her nose. "I've narrowed down the style but I'm totally stuck on fonts. Don't you dare make fun of me."

"Kate, they have to go out."

"I _know_," she promised, settling beside him. Truthfully, it was their wedding invitation. She'd saved it because she wanted it to be something they picked out. She could rationalize choosing her own flower arrangements, she could understand allowing her to choose the colour scheme, but she was set on the invitations. Their wedding, their invitations.

"Alright, Detective. Lay it on me."

She pulled a handful from the pouch. "I've vetoed the complicated or intricate ones," she told him, as she fanned out six options. She hadn't ruled out some fun ones. A couple were cartoons, others colourful and then, of course, some elegant selections.

He flipped through them, humming when he came across a blank one. "Our engagement shot?"

"We could," she agreed. "Though the one that's in your office."

She had the same one on her desk. They'd done a photo shoot for the press with a photographer friend of Rick's. Once they'd had the formal shot, Nick had ordered them to get goofy. Considering it had been them, it hadn't been difficult. Nick had ended up showing them a gorgeous shot of Rick lifting Kate his arms tight around her waist and her head thrown back in laughter. It spoke of so much in their relationship. She made him happy and it was so evident by the look on his face, the focus on her. He held her up, supported her, helped her fly.

They'd loved the metaphor.

"We can do funny wording too," he offered.

"We're going away from formal?"

"Formal's not us," he pointed out.

She grinned and tucked the two cream embossed selections back into the envelope. He kept looking at the blank one. She'd liked it too. She'd loved the idea of printing that picture, of showing off what they had and what it meant. From the way he was shuffling around the cards but always coming back to the virtually blank one, she could tell he felt the same.

They picked the font next – nothing calligraphy or elegant, but looking almost handwritten – and he composed a goofy poem that made her laugh. This was what she'd wanted all those nights she'd sat alone at the island, puzzling it all over. She'd wanted this, the fun, the laughter, the light-heartedness. She didn't take this to seriously when he was beside her and he made it so much easier to make decisions.

They talked about buffet style finger food for the reception because the ceremony was going to take place in the Hamptons. Rick even called Paula and Gina, asked them to e-mail Kate a list of caterers that would be willing to handle an event like their wedding. They narrowed down their guest list too before Rick tackled her to the bed.

"I can't wait to marry you," he whispered against her lips

Kate felt her worries dissipate. How could she have believed that Rick didn't want to plan with her? She knew better. He wanted this wedding as much as she did. He wanted to call her his wife, to promise her forever, to be that 'one and done' that she'd been looking for when he'd dropped into her lap.

"Me either," she promised.

* * *

They spent the rest of the weekend as tourists. Besides her semester in Kiev, Kate had done very little traveling and Rick too the opportunity to drag her to every touristy thing they could do. New Orleans was in full swing with Halloween just under two weeks away. They toured cemeteries and plantations, wandered the French Quarter and seen the city from a riverboat. He'd even managed to convince her to sit down for a Tarot reading in Jackson Square. She'd all but swooned when he'd easily tugged her into Café du Monde for a beignet and coffee.

Kate had lapped it up, and Rick had fed off her excitement.

They spent Saturday night in the hustle and bustle of the city, eating dinner at the Hard Rock before wandering down to see the street performers. On Sunday they got dressed up and just barely made their reservation at Arnaud's. Kate's eyes had shone across the table as they shared appetizers and dinner and didn't even pester him about what the bill had been. Instead, she'd taken his hand and they'd headed back to the hotel.

And then, before they'd both known it, before they could blink, it was Monday. Kate had to return New York, and he had to move on to Mississippi. They packed their bags and headed to the airport.

"We've done this before," he said, mouth against her temple as they headed towards the ticket counter. He'd kept her close for the car ride, his hand wrapped in hers.

"Yeah," she agreed quietly. It was another one of those situations where Kate didn't care if he was all over her. She was about to separate from him again, this time for six weeks. Four weeks had been brutally hard. She had no idea how she was going to make it to Thanksgiving without losing her mind.

"Next time," he went on, tightening his grip on her hip. "I don't put off the tours."

"Agreed," she replied because that was what had gotten them into this fiasco to begin with. He hadn't been on a tour in years. First there had been her shooting, then the Smith case, and he'd been too busy trying to keep them strong together. It had been one thing after another and he just hadn't done it. Not since the California trip that had brought them together.

"And you come with me."

She smiled, tipped her head back for his kiss. "Also agreed."

"Really?"

"Come on, Rick," she said, nudging his stomach and ignoring the overdramatic 'oomph'. "This is hard for me too." Sometimes, she wondered if it was harder. She was alone in their bed, in their house, with their memories. She found herself abstractly wondering if that was worse than being alone in a sterile hotel room. And, of course, there was the issue of how much she relied on him to pull her out of the dark.

"I know," he promised. "I know." His hand stroked along her ribs. "How much time do you have banked up?"

Kate hummed slightly. "Not sure."

"Six weeks."

That made her turn, right out of his embrace. "What?"

"Six weeks," he repeated, his hand settling on her hip. "Two weeks for our honeymoon and a month in Europe for touring."

"Yeah?" Her eyes were shining. Europe for her honeymoon. _Her honeymoon_!

"Why not?" he replied, sliding his hand to splay across her back. They shuffled a few steps to move forward in line, miraculously without tripping over anyone's luggage. "Europe is going to have to be my next trip anyway." He leaned down to her ear. "Think about it: we'll see every major city on the continent."

Her smile widened. "Really?" There were so many she wanted to see! Madrid, London, Paris, Rome… She'd been stupid in her semester abroad and hadn't done as much touring as she should have. Plus, considering their weekend in New Orleans she was sure touring the European cities with Rick would be a once in a lifetime experience.

"Oh Kate," he said, breath washing down the side of her neck. "There are so many possibilities when you're my wife…"

The shiver raced down her back and she forced herself to pull away. Why did he have to do this now, in the airport? "You're cruel."

He grinned, then nudged her forward.

The happy bubble evaporated fast when they finally had their boarding passes. They were on opposite sides of the terminal, on different concourses. They stood there, just looking, knowing that neither one of them wanted to be the first to say goodbye.

"Call me when you land," he finally said.

She swallowed, reaching out to fiddle with the sports coat he wore. "I will." She forced back the irrational tears she hated to shed. "Call me every day."

"I promise, Kate. Every day."

They shared a kiss, tender and heartbreaking.

"I love you," he told her.

"I love you too," she echoed.

Their next kiss was violent, turbulent, hot. It had to last them a month and a half after all.

"You need to go," he said when they pulled away, but he made no move to remove his hand from where it had curled around her neck. "Because neither of us is going anywhere if we stand here too much longer."

She needed to be the responsible one. But with was with a heavy sigh and a heavy heart that she let her hand drop from his chest. Then she took one step backwards. Then two, then three. Finally, she sucked in a deep breath, blew him a bittersweet kiss and turned for her gate.

Six weeks was going to suck.

* * *

_So, thesis, supervisor, issues, Memoir, muse… there are a million words and reasons for why this took… huh, two months. Really there are. I didn't want to write this chapter and it wasn't until I forced myself to that I knew why. I can't do gratuitous fluff. Not when there's so much drama to come. I feel like every scene needs to move towards the endgame and there's really only one part of this chapter that even touches on what the big turning point's going to be for Rick and Kate. And then I had to write the other airport goodbye scene. Now I'm depressed. _

_I'm hoping now that I've got this one out of the way (and my apologies to those of you who were looking for a more detailed walkthrough of their weekend. It didn't happen, the muse wouldn't let it) I can get on with this. Potentially, there's two more chapters before I get to what I want, so these are all almost transitions. Set ups, if you will. Which is probably also part of the reason they're irritating me. Because while it doesn't feel like they're pushing the story forward they actually are, at a pace that's almost invisible. _

_If you read this, thanks so much for your patience. Trust me, I know what it feels like to wait forever for a chapter you want now and I wish there was something I could do to change the way my brain works. _

_If you're so inclined, please drop a review. _


	13. Chapter 13

**Around the World Series**

_Part Five_

North American Dream

Chapter 13

. . . . .

There were very few instances in which Mark was grateful for his insomnia. It had plagued him since he was in high school and while it came in handy – all night cram sessions, cases that ran late – but it was about gratefulness then.

With Rebecca, he was actually glad for it. Rebecca had told him their first night together she was prone to nightmares. Had been since she was young. He hadn't asked questions then. It was too early into their relationship at the time to be asking all the deep questions and, well, he'd been kind of preoccupied. He'd meant to ask every time since, every time she woke with a nightmare, but she was always a wreck. He wasn't about to ask her to dredge up those deep dark secrets when she was breaking apart.

So instead, he always put her back together.

He knew though he was getting to the edge of his tolerance. He _hated_ seeing her torn up like that. It drove him nuts. He was a fixer by nature, it was part of the reason he'd gone into the NYPD. 24/7 Fixer of Things Gone Wrong. Well, but for the good guys. So it drove him nuts that he couldn't seem to find it in himself to tamp down the sympathy to get her to talk it out, get her to face it.

When she started whimpering against him, he steeled himself.

They'd come back to her apartment after a rare date night. Beckett had stayed late and Mark had seriously thought about calling Rebecca and cancelling. But Beckett hadn't let him. In the two weeks since she'd been back she'd been spending a lot of late nights at the precinct, but Mark couldn't exactly blame her. He could definitely understand the draw of cases when the alternative was an empty apartment.

So, reluctantly, he'd gone.

He was glad. He and Rebecca didn't get a lot of time for real dates between their unpredictable schedules and the opportunity was there in front of him. He'd taken it and it had been fun. They'd gone back to her place because it was her turn for a stupidly early morning – to make her deadline, to make up for the fact that she too had put off work for their date – and she lived closer than he did.

And now she was having a nightmare. Or night terror. That was another answer he hadn't been able to get from her.

"Becca," he began softly. "Becca wake up."

Oh God he hoped it was a nightmare. Wasn't there a think about waking up people with night terrors? Something about it being a terrible thing.

But Mark wasn't one to just sit by.

"Becca."

Her eyes opened with a gasp and she stared, wide-eyed for a moment before she blinked and her entire body went slack. "Shit."

Nightmare. Good. Kind of. In some twisted way. "Want to talk about it?"

It was a pattern now, but it was the first time she hadn't seemed as broken. There were tears pooling in her eyes, but she hadn't jumped into his arms, into his embrace. Maybe fate was looking down favourably on the fact that he wanted to bloody help her. "No."

He arched an eyebrow. "I hear it makes it better."

"Not this," she replied with a wry smile. She shuffled away from the gentle caress of his hand against her cheek. He hadn't even realized he'd been doing it. "Trust me."

"Wish I could," he said gently. But on this? He couldn't. Nightmares came with the territory, for both of them now that she worked the crime beat. But this was something else entirely, he was sure of it. "Nightmares don't usually lend themselves to 'just let it go'."

"And you would know?"

Pissed. Really pissed actually and really, he couldn't blame her. He was pushing, of course. He had to. "Homicide detective. Nightmares are an occupational hazard."

She rolled her eyes. "This isn't about the job."

Sometimes, it irked him that they referred to what they both did as the same thing. They weren't and usually he was glad but when she was this contrary, it just pissed him off. And here he hadn't thought fighting with her was on the agenda.

Then again, neither were nightmares.

"Becca, just tell me."

"Just tell you. You think it's that easy?"

"You think I'm going anywhere until you do?" He could give as good as he got. He was well-versed in stubborn contrariness, though usually with his old partner. Not girlfriends. Then again, Rebecca was entirely different.

"This is my apartment, Buster."

"Uh huh," he tugged her back to bed from her sitting position. He'd pissed her off enough she wanted out of the bed, away from him. Or she was scared. "And I'm the police."

"That's abuse."

He raised an eyebrow. "Of you or the badge? Because, darlin', I'm not keeping you against your will."

"Really? You know I can't fight you off."

He was stronger, by nature of being a cop. She worked out, but he was probably twice her weight, most of it height and muscle. He huffed out a breath and changed tactics. His hand came up to brush her hair from her cheek. "I don't like your nightmares."

"Ditto," she replied with a nonchalant shrug that was everything but. There wasn't a calm bone in her body for the moment.

"So how can I help if you won't tell me about them?"

"You don't."

He rolled to his back, looking at the ceiling. "Then this isn't going to work."

"That's emotional blackmail."

Her response sent a thrill through him. Seriously? The idea of them ending made her antsy? Sure he liked her, a lot and cared about her even more but she had to know logically they couldn't work if they weren't both working towards eliminating the walls between them. "I can't see an alternative."

"Seriously? You're going to break up with me over nightmares."

"Over secrets."

"Are you a girl?"

He shot her a glare. Yeah, nothing vulnerable about this particular Rebecca. Apparently the nightmares weren't bad this time around. She wasn't broken. She was angry. "What are you afraid of?"

There were, of course, the easy ones. Relationships had inherent fears, like getting hurt or heartbroken, or losing the other person. Cheating, trust, loyalty, and with them there was an entire other level of danger and reality in the potential that one of them wouldn't come back one day.

"Why do you care?"

"Really? We've been together for months now. You're really asking me why I care?"

"No," she said with a frown. She was being stupid, she knew it, but she hated pulling up those memories. They were darker times, harder times, and she didn't talk about them. Things were different now, but there was still that taboo. Never talk about It. But he was asking her to.

And she wasn't sure she could do it.

There was a part of her that understood she had to open up. She _liked_ Mark. He was as normal as she'd met in her days, he didn't patronize her, hell, he used her. He bounced ideas off her the same way Rebecca had seen Castle and Beckett exchange ideas. She felt like she was a part of that team, even if she didn't spend a lot of time with them.

Mark was a big part of that. And she wanted above all else, to keep being a part of it. She didn't think he was offering an ultimatum, really, but she recognized the moment. She had a choice to make. "I've never told _anyone_."

Significance. True and real significance. Something she had quite literally never told another soul. It made Mark pause, re-think, because to ask her to tell him now was both the only thing he wanted and the last thing he wanted. He didn't want to push her that hard. Were they ready for that kind of commitment, even if it was only implied? But stories that were secret, stories that were big deals…

"What did your other boyfriends do?" he asked.

Rebecca was fast enough to catch on. "No one really did," she admitted. "And… I said 'no'."

Because it worked the same way with them as it had with Mark. She warned them about nightmares and when they asked, she refused to answer. Then comes the situation like this, the one where they're been dating for months and Rebecca knew she had to make a choice. Most often, she chose to push them away. Yet that wasn't what she wanted to do with Mark.

She sucked in a breath, aware that this was going to _hurt_. "I have nightmares about my brother's suicide."

He was facing her a split second later, reaching out to rest a hand on her bare stomach. "Stop." This wasn't what he'd wanted, what he'd meant. "I'm not leaving, Becca."

But she shook her head. "He was sixteen and my idol. I was eleven." The dam was broken now. She could feel all of the emotion welling up in her, springing free. Tears pooled in her eyes and she felt the painful sobs crawling up her throat. "No one knew."

Mark waited but when nothing else seemed forthcoming, he prompted. "Knew what?"

"That he was depressed," she said quietly. "That he was thinking about it. He had this ball, a football, signed. He gave it to me the day before, said something about cleaning his room." She smiled sadly. "He taught me to throw a football."

And Mark knew she was good too. He lifted the hand on her stomach to card through her hair.

"He was quiet, that's all. Dad always said that it wasn't manly to cry and Thatcher took it to heart. He never cried. But every time he should have and didn't, it killed him a little bit. And then one day…"

There was a part of him that wanted to ask the manner of death, if he'd hanged himself, slit his wrists, but he also didn't want her delving further into that darkness. They all had it, of course, but not like this. He was about to open his mouth, to go on, to try and fix it, when a knock sounded.

Rebecca bounded out of the bed, not that he faulted her. "Can you get that?" she asked, brushing tears from her face.

Mark didn't really think about it as he pulled on his boxers and t-shirt. He was the guy she was dating, rather seriously, he had every right to be in her house. The man on the other side, however, looked less than impressive.

"Where's Becks?"

"Who are you?"

"None of your business. Where's Becks?"

"Mark?" The 'who is it?' went unsaid.

But Mark didn't answer. He had no idea who the guy was and he wasn't letting some random man into his girlfriend's apartment. He felt her hand brush against his back before she spoke.

"Tyrone?"

"Becks."

She stepped in front of him, sliding under his arm braced against the doorframe. "What are you doing here?"

Mark didn't like this one bit. He remembered the name, and the name meant Rico. And Rico meant gangs. As a cop, it went without saying that he did not want Rebecca associating with gang members.

"Got news for you," Tyrone said, still eyeing Mark.

The automatic dislike went without saying. It was also mutual. Rebecca was not ignorant of it and shot a glare over her shoulder at Mark. He moved back into her apartment, out of the way.

"Your cop?" Mark heard Tyrone ask.

"Mark. Detective Sookhold."

"You working K-Hart?"

Mark looked up, still guarded. "Yeah."

"This'll be for you too."

Well huh. That was different. It wasn't what he was expecting in the slightest. Rebecca sighed and stepped aside to let Tyrone in. She double-checked the hallway, then locked the door behind them and followed Tyrone to the couch. Still, she chose to sit beside Mark.

"What is it?" she asked, her hand coming out to settle on Mark's knee. "What about the case?"

"Johnny's poking his head out of his hidey-hole."

That had Mark's attention. "You know where Hanson is?"

"Something like that," Tyrone answered. He looked a little nervous about sitting there with both of them, but Mark wasn't stupid. He was Rebecca's informant, but willing to share that information with him. Tyrone leaned forward. "We've got rumours."

The phrase didn't faze Rebecca. She echoed the lean. "What kind of rumours."

"Rumours that he's got his own place. That his mama took him in again, 'cept she doesn't know she did."

He'd been sneaking into his mother's place. Mark made a mental note.

"His product's been on the market. Buying and selling. Took half of Yankee's customers just last week."

Competition.

"So why hasn't Rico killed him?" The words were out of Mark's mouth before he'd really realized he'd said them.

"Too much heat," Tyrone answered. "You coppers are watching us. Think we don't know that? Rico lashes out, we take the heat."

"Which is why you came here," Rebecca said carefully. "If you come to me, it can't be traced back to you. I can't reveal my source."

Something like affection flickered in Tyrone's eyes. "So Rico's got eyes, ears, whatever, everywhere. Finds Johnny but we're at a standstill. You guys got nothing, we can't do nothing."

"Have nothing, Jackass," Rebecca groused. "I didn't tutor you through twelfth grade English for you to drop into gang slang now. And it's 'do anything'."

Tyrone flashed her a grin.

"So what do you want me to do?" Mark interjected. He was slightly irritated by the whole scene, by the past they'd shared. It was stupid, but it was jealousy. There didn't have to be anything rational about it.

"You got stuff on him?"

"Some," Mark agreed. They could put Hanson in the car. They even had a syringe that CSU had miraculously managed to recover, print and test. Lanie had found the needle point. But Mark knew it came down to whether or not they could break him. Reinhart was a druggie himself, there was no way a judge was going to see any of that evidence as solid. Circumstantial mostly.

Tyrone twisted his hands for a moment. "Look, K-Hart was a friend. I know you don't think it exists in gangs, but we're a brotherhood."

Actually, Mark had never doubted that part. He knew gangs were families, families the people involved rarely ever had to begin with. Considering the Twelfth, what he'd seen and experienced, the bond between the team he was now a part of, it wasn't a far stretch. Belonging mattered, regardless of where that belonging manifested.

"We want Johnny out. Do I want him dead? Yeah, 'course I do, but I'm not an idiot. Neither is Rico, though he's batshit crazy. Paranoid." Tyrone nailed Mark with a look. "We want him gone."

"Best I can do is arrest him," Mark pointed out carefully.

Tyrone's eyes, however, were hard. "Nail him."

Considering Mark had seen Beckett, Ryan and Esposito in interrogation, he had no doubt that if they could get Hanson in the box, they'd find some way to destroy him. He allowed a small, predatory smile crawl across his face. "Where is he?"

* * *

_Again, a million things I could say. I'm writing in present tense for the other three I'm working on, switching back was a pain. I marked papers for two weeks straight and this required some going back to ensure it all weaves together right. I tried to write this scene twelve different ways and it never came out right. I'm still not satisfied with it entirely. There's something wrong with my Castle muse. It is very sick. _

_I'll see if I can get something up soon. I hate writing interrogations though and we all know that's what's coming next. And I still want to keep weaving the Mark and Rebecca thing through this, so I'm anticipating fighting with this story until the end. Or at least until the Kate-Rick-Wedding thing comes to a head. But I have to get through Thanksgiving first and I'm honestly thinking of just skimming over it because it would be gratuitous fluff with no reasoning in the plot except the family moments. We'll see. I haven't made any decisions yet. _

_If you're still here, thanks for reading. _


	14. Chapter 14

**Around the World Series**

_Part Five_

North American Dream

Chapter 14

_*I am affectionately dubbing this The Wedding Chapter I. You'll see why._*

. . . . .

In the middle of the annual review of expense reports and case closure rates, Captain Roy Montgomery reached for his shrilly ringing phone.

"Montgomery."

"Roy, it's Rick."

"Rick!" Roy's attention shifted almost immediately. The man had been calling weekly to check up on Kate, so this call was an aberration. Still, it felt a little bit like getting a call from a child who had moved away from home. "If she finds out you're upping your check ups to two a week she's really going to kill us both."

That got a hearty, if exhausted laugh. Roy could tell that the absence was weighing on them both. It was actually kind of freaky, how easily Kate had reverted to the dark days before Rick was around to help out. "I'm not calling to check up on her, though the update is appreciated."

"She took the day," Roy revealed easily. The precinct was his work-family and Kate was his work-daughter. That made Rick his soon-to-be work-son-in-law.

The man on the other end of the phone offered a sound of approval. "She works too hard."

"She always has."

They both knew why and while they may have both wished Kate take a break every now and again, there was no doubt that she needed to do what she did. She needed to be a cop. She needed to get justice.

"I am calling for another reason though," Rick said, and Roy, good cop that he was, definitely detected something in the other man's voice. Nerves perhaps. "It's about the wedding."

There was very little Roy wasn't willing to do for Kate and Rick's wedding. He was so happy to see Kate happy, to see her living again, that he was prepared to do everything. He drew the line at officiating though.

"You know Jim's walking Kate down the aisle."

No one had ever had a doubt. Kate and her father had their ups and downs but even Kate knew that allowing someone else to be her escort would be something she'd regret.

"But, we'd both want you to play a big part in our wedding."

Yeah, Montgomery knew that too. Kate had been easy going about sharing all the details with the precinct when they weren't smack dab in the middle of a case. Just last week they'd all gone out to celebrate, Roy and his wife included, and Kate had filled them in on what they had. It wasn't much, but Roy had refrained from asking. There had been something lurking in Kate's eyes and he was afraid to open a can of worms without realizing he was twisting the opener. Since no one else had asked, he figured they'd all caught on that _something_ wasn't right.

"So I was thinking," Rick went on, then paused.

Roy waited. The silence was uncharacteristic of the writer. His relationship with Kate had done nothing to quiet him, so the pauses were odd.

"Roy, I'd be honoured if you stood up with me."

That had been unexpected.

"I couldn't choose between Ryan and Esposito if I tried," Rick continued. "And you let me follow her in the first place. You gave us the opportunity. And you're like a second father to her."

"Rick." He was scolding his child at this point. It was kind of amusing. "_I'm_ the one that would be honoured to stand up with you."

Roy sat back in his chair as the hung up, looking at the phone, reports forgotten. God, if this was what he was like when Kate was getting married he didn't want to think about what he'd be like when his own daughters got married.

But he was so incredibly happy for Kate. He'd noticed her early for her drive and her work ethic. He'd watched her until he could pull her into homicide and had without second thought. Sure, he'd found out about her mother's case along the way and yeah, he'd had to put his foot down more than once in terms of watching her fall of the worst of cliffs, but he'd been her mentor and he knew it. Royce had been her training officer, a rock through the worst, but he had been an unmovable boulder with only her best interests at heart. So where Royce would have given in because he wanted to give her everything she didn't have, Roy put his foot down because he cared.

He'd thought she'd locked herself away after Royce, after the therapy. He'd been careful picking her team, giving her boys with big hearts and the same passion and drive. He wanted her to have a team that understood that being a cop wasn't a video game or a TV show. It was solving real crimes with real people and real families. People with their own pasts and secrets. It was a job as much as a mystery and he'd needed to build a team around her that would support her if she fell.

Inadvertently, he'd created a family.

Then, Kate had arrested Rick Castle. Roy hadn't known anything about the man when he'd first met him, nor that Kate was a fan of the books – he'd only figured the second out when she'd brought in a box of them during that case. He'd been immediately drawn to the way he could fluster her, the way she couldn't control him. He'd wondered, watching Kate, if she was fortifying her walls to thick, if she even knew what fun was anymore. How many times had he forced her to take a vacation, pushed her out of the precinct, quietly threatened to send her back to therapy? Then in came Castle and the entire dynamic changed.

He had the absolute pleasure of watching her let this man in. Dogged persistence had been Castle's middle name for almost three years as he pushed, prodded, cajoled and manipulated her into telling him things Roy was pretty sure even he didn't know. The thing was, Castle responded. The wild playboy that had strutted into the precinct that first day was a far cry from the man that worked cases with her now. Sure, the fundamentals were there, but so was a genuine respect for the things the NYPD did, and a recognition that these weren't mystery novels. They were real cases. They were real deaths. And all Castle had done was be there, be her support, her helping hand, her rock. He'd been so stable for her and he'd broken through the wall she'd built around her heart so long ago.

It changed Kate. It didn't change the passion, the drive, the determination or the love of the work she did, but Roy could see that she was different. She went home now, without having to be ordered. She was quicker to smile, faster to make a witty comment, as open to going out for a drink as she was having the team over for Thanksgiving. She'd created a home, found herself someone who could love her unconditionally, who worshipped the ground she walked on. And Roy knew that she wasn't above admitting that it was surreal.

Roy smiled to himself as he leaned forward again, knowing he had to get back to his job. Detective Kate Beckett, marrying the writer she loved so much.

Roy never would have expected it.

* * *

Meanwhile, Kate had decided that it was time to relieve stress with a friend, and since she'd planned to spend the day with Lanie, she'd decided wedding dress shopping was in order. It wasn't her characteristic relief of choice, but she'd needed girl time. And, more importantly, she needed a wedding dress. So she'd bribed Lanie into taking the day off with coffee, company and maybe a little bit of manipulation. She just wasn't sure she wanted to be by herself.

Planning the wedding with Rick for those few hours in New Orleans had been fantastic. It had been exactly what she'd hoped for, exactly what she wanted. She'd reveled in making choices with him, in goofing around almost like they did in the precinct. But now, she was back in New York and things were different. Not that she'd really take Rick dress shopping. It was kind of a girl thing and the only girl who's opinion mattered was currently shuffling around pedestrians at her side.

At least, the only girl on earth. But Kate was trying not to dwell on the emptiness her mother's death seemed to leave in her wedding. Plenty of women got married without their mothers present and it wasn't like she didn't have a female support system. They just… they weren't her mother.

"You're going to that dark place again."

Kate offered the best smile she could at Lanie. "Sorry."

"Uh huh," the ME replied, linking her arm with Kate. "I get it."

She didn't, Kate thought, but appreciated the sentiment.

However, Lanie did understand, probably better than Kate realized. How many times had Kate been a bridesmaid and seen that moment between mother and daughter? Lanie could appreciate how hard it was to plan what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life without the one woman that probably mattered most. Martha was a phenomenal stand in, but she wasn't Johanna Beckett. Nothing could change that, and realistically, Lanie doubted Kate would want to change it. The detective had always been the 'play-your-hand' type. It was one of the key tip offs for Lanie that she and Rick were perfect.

So, it was her job to keep Kate out of a funk and with Rick across the country-ish and Martha busy with her own life, it was Lanie's turn. It was an assignment she accepted with gusto.

"Girl, you know to buy a dress we actually have to go _into_ a store," she groused playfully, waving the paper take-out coffee cup she held.

"I know," Kate promised. "It's just…"

"Hard."

The detective released an explosive sigh. "Yeah." She offered another tight smile. "Sorry."

"Nah. 'Cept you wouldn't show Castle the dress anyway. You'd be shopping by yourself. And even I know that's just depressing," Lanie retorted. "Though seriously, my fingers are starting to freeze and we've only got a couple of hours."

She made a point, so the next boutique they passed Lanie pulled Kate through the door. "Okay, go over the requirements with me."

"Summer," Kate replied, shuffling through a rack. "So not heavy, not long-sleeved."

"May it the Hamptons'll still be cold."

Kate smiled, truly and mischievously. "That's what Rick's coat's for."

Lanie grinned back, even as she asked, "Is anything at your wedding going to be traditional?"

"No," Kate answered with a tinkling laugh. "Rick and I figure we're both so unconventional that it would be out of character."

And that was it, the bare truth. It was why Kate wasn't looking for a princess dress or a massive train. Beyond that not really being her style, she wanted simplicity. She wanted something that was about _them_ and to do that, they just had to be them. She didn't want her wedding transformed into the social event of the season because, quite simply, they weren't tabloid fodder. They were real, what they had was real and Kate was determined to ensure that who they were came through in every aspect of their wedding.

Which included her dress.

"Money's no object, right?" Lanie asked.

Kate jumped because Lanie had thankfully asked the question in a low voice right beside her. "Right," she agreed. "I'm not allowed to say no to something I love because of the price."

"Kate Beckett with a bottomless wedding account. I never would have seen it coming."

"You and me both," Kate promised.

"Okay, here's what we're going to do," Lanie said clapping her hands together. She'd noticed one of the sales women circling them, working her way towards them and with how skittish Kate seemed to be about the whole idea, Lanie was incredibly reluctant to allow any one else to weasel their way in. Plus, it wasn't like Kate's name and picture were kept entirely out of the press. The last thing Lanie wanted was Kate trying on a bunch of dresses she'd never choose for herself because the sales woman thought it perfect for Rick Castle's wife-to-be.

That wasn't Kate.

"I'm going to pick three, you're going to pick three, and we're going to start narrowing down what works and what doesn't."

Kate grinned and reached over to give Lanie a one-armed hug. "You're the best."

"Yeah," Lanie grinned back. "I know." Then she pointed. "You, over there."

It took them twenty minutes to find three dresses a piece and they were shown to a fitting room. The sales woman, who had introduced herself as Juliet, hovered, but a quick glare from Lanie sent her scurrying. Kate would not be pressured.

Lanie knew the wedding planning was hard. Harder, obviously, because Johanna wasn't in the picture, but neither was Rick. Sure, Kate wouldn't be showing her fiancée her wedding gown, but she had the rest of it to plan too. She'd been on the receiving end of more than one angry rant about how unhelpful Rick was being while on tour and while Lanie couldn't exactly fault him, she wasn't entirely taking Kate's side either. Despite how far they'd come, Lanie knew that Kate still had trouble opening up about some things, actually expressing what she wanted. Lanie also knew that part of that stemmed from how much Kate thought she'd taken over the years. The ME knew that sometimes Kate felt like she didn't give as much as she received in the relationship and was still very uncomfortable with the idea that Rick would move the world for her if he could.

The unlocking dressing room caught her gaze as Kate stepped out in a form fitting, thick spaghetti-strapped ivory satin dress. The sweetheart neckline was kind of cute but Lanie wrinkled her nose.

"Yeah," Kate agreed on a bit of a laugh. "It looked better on the hangar I think."

"Looks a little like you walked out in your nightie," Lanie answered as Kate shut the door again.

Still, the ME smiled to herself. They were dress shopping. It was _insane_. Actually, what felt even more insane was the fact that Kate was getting married before Lanie. Lanie had always figured it would be her first because Kate could be so incredibly closed off, so incredibly protective of herself.

Lanie sighed. She couldn't help wondering when she'd be able to do this kind of thing.

Kate interrupted her thoughts again, this time stepping out in a strapless dress. The bodice was embroidered with glass beads and the skirt fell loose to her knees.

"I like the length," Lanie offered.

Kate laughed. "I'm going to sparkle like a disco ball."

"True," Lanie said, cocking her head to the side. "Should have thought about the sunlight." It had been one of her picks. She made a mental note.

Kate poked her head back into the dressing room. "Okay, that eliminates the long ones…"

They continued through another twelve dresses before they both decided to move on. Lanie sighed as they stepped onto the walk, catching Kate's attention.

"Something wrong?"

Lanie wrinkled her nose. "Not wrong," she said. "Just… odd."

Kate didn't say anything for a few moments, but Lanie knew the wheels in her brain were turning. When didn't they?

"You want to marry Javi."

Yeah. Why had she chosen a whip-smart best friend again? "All this wedding stuff has me thinking, yeah."

"Thinking isn't the same thing," Kate argued. "You actually _want_ to."

Lanie took a sip out of her cup, stalling. "His parents' place was fun." Actually, Lanie had been a couple of times since, when their schedules coincided. "And… Kate, I can see it. Goin' every Christmas, takin' the kids-"

"Kids, Lain?"

"You can't tell me you haven't thought about it. Little Castle babies." Lanie arched an eyebrow even as Kate blanched. "I can see it. You'd be a good Ma."

"I don't know," Kate admitted. "With my job… And Rick's got an empty nest now. A kid's not conducive for writing."

Lanie filed it away, but avoiding pressing the subject. Wedding first, then she'd worry about godchildren. Pseudo-nieces and nephews. Whatever they'd be. "Point is, I could see it. I can still see it."

"The question is whether you like it."

"I do," she said after a pause. "But we haven't even moved in together."

"What's stopping you?"

Lanie laughed. "Girl, you're getting _married_. That's a lot to take on. Javi and I just got over a bit of a hump with his parents…"

"You don't want to rock the boat just yet," Kate finished. "And that had better be it, because if you're telling me you don't want to overshadow my wedding I'm going to beat you."

Lanie snorted. "Try me. You may be trained, but I'm street trained."

The laughed together as they went into the second boutique.

It took them four more before Kate slipped into the perfect dress. It was strapless, to her knees, with an intricate lace overlay. Lace edged the bottom hem while a peach sash tied around her waist. Simple. Unconventional. Lanie knew the minute Kate stepped out of the fitting room that she was in love with it.

"Kate?"

"This is it," Kate breathed. "Lanie, this is my wedding dress."

They'd found it.

* * *

_Okay, story time with Kavi:_

_I'd initially planned to make this about Hanson and the interrogation. It was in my story notes. But I've been dying to do the wedding dress shopping and the wedding discussion that comes with it, and then the scene with Montgomery came... Needless to say, the chapter took on a life of it's own. I promise to remember to explain and make the timeline clear in terms of when they manage to track the bastard down. _

_Have I mentioned how weird it is to write Montgomery in this? I haven't given my Montgomery any sort of backstory and the way he's played his role in this series means that in actual fact, he can't really be partially responsible for her mother's death. At least that's the way my head's processing it. So it's odd to write him without the guilt of making Kate suffer. It was hard to write the chunk of how he fixated on Kate and brought her into homicide to work under him. _

_And, as if all of that's not enough, it's a quick update! My third today, actually. Sometimes, you just have to shut the world out and write. _

_Hope you enjoyed!_


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